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■ '■:"  '       -II 


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WILLIAM   JEWETT  TUCKER 


is; 


I 


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33p  William  3fctoctt  Cttcfeer,  D.SD. 


MY  GENERATION:  An  Autobiographical  In- 
terpretation.    Illustrated. 

THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME. 
PERSONAL    POWER.     Counsels    to    College 
Men. 

THE  MAKING  AND  UNMAKING  OF  THE 
PREACH  ER.  Lectures  on  the  Lyman  Beecher 
Foundation,  Yale  University,  1898. 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York 


MY  GENERATION 


iM^Tf^LXUA^  . 


MY  GENERATION 

AN 
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  INTERPRETATION 

BY 

WILLIAM  JEWETT  TUCKER 

President  Emeritus  of  Dartmouth  College 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

The  Riverside  Press  Cambridge 
1919 


COPYRIGHT,   1919,   BY  WILLIAM  JEWETT  TUCKER 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


TO 

ROBERT  ARCHEY  WOODS 

HEAD  OF  THE  SOUTH  END  (ANDOVER)  HOUSE 

AND 

ERNEST  MARTIN  HOPKINS 

PRESIDENT  OF  DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE 


Lb 


PREFACE 


There  must  be,  of  course,  some  reason  for  that  backward 
errand  of  the  mind  which  is  implied  in  autobiography. 
"Confessions"  may  be,  they  frequently  are,  the  work 
of  the  imagination;  but,  when  genuine,  they  have  their 
justification  in  the  unburdening  of  a  mind  of  its  past. 
"Reminiscences"  of  lighter  vein  are  the  recreation  of  the 
mind;  in  more  serious  vein,  its  revaluation  of  men  and 
events  according  to  the  appraisal  of  the  memory.  "Inter- 
pretation" represents  most  nearly  the  unfinished  work  of 
a  lifetime.  In  its  more  personal  use  it  offers  to  the  individual 
worker  a  just  relief  from  his  frequent  sense  of  the  incom- 
pleteness and  the  impermanence  of  his  work,  by  allowing 
him  to  relate  it  to  things  which  have  in  themselves  fullness 
or  stability  —  movements,  causes,  institutions.  Applied 
in  its  larger  relations,  it  may  make  some  unfinished  work 
of  a  generation,  through  the  better  understanding  of  it, 
the  special  task  of  the  next,  and  so  maintain  that  con- 
tinuity of  purpose  among  like-minded  men  which  is  the 
essential  element  in  social  progress. 

It  had  not  been  my  intention  to  write  an  autobiography, 
even  in  the  specialized  form  of  interpretation.  The  result 
which  now  appears  was  not  a  matter  of  design  or  of  pre- 
meditation. Before  I  became  interested  in  the  preparation 
of  this  book  the  initiative  had  been  taken  by  my  wife, 
through  her  self-imposed  but  most  gracious  task  of  sifting 
and  arranging  the  very  considerable  amount  of  memoranda 
and  correspondence,  which  had  accumulated  during  the 
years  of  my  professional  and  semi-public  service.  The  nat- 


viii  PREFACE 

ural  outcome  of  her  work,  were  any  public  use  to  be  made 
of  the  material  thus  prepared,  would  have  been  a  volume 
of  correspondence  edited  by  her,  with  her  own  annotations. 
Such  an  outcome,  though  presumably  quite  in  the  future, 
I  had  anticipated  in  the  event  of  publication.  But  as  the 
sifting  process  went  on,  it  became  evident  to  both  of  us 
that  the  publication  of  correspondence,  however  it  might 
be  annotated,  would  be  an  insufficient  and  perhaps  mis- 
leading treatment  of  the  data  in  hand;  that,  in  fact,  the 
only  practicable  treatment  must  be  in  the  way  of  auto- 
biographical interpretation.  In  the  first  place,  the  corre- 
spondence was  incomplete,  as  few  copies  of  my  own  letters 
had  been  preserved,  and  many  of  the  letters  received,  natu- 
rally the  most  interesting,  were  in  their  prevailing  char- 
acter confidential.  Furthermore,  my  professional  career 
had  been  divided  not  only  in  time  and  place,  but  still  more 
according  to  the  specific  objects  which  had  been  pursued, 
requiring  a  personal  knowledge  of  motives  and  purposes 
to  give  it  the  requisite  unity.  And  further  still,  the  spirit 
of  my  whole  work  had  been  so  far  related,  at  least  to  my- 
self, to  what  I  have  termed  the  fortune  of  my  generation, 
that  it  could  hardly  have  been  interpreted  except  by  the 
one  who  had  passed  through  experiences  incident  to  the 
peculiar  incentives  and  influences  of  the  generation.  For 
these  reasons  the  book  assumed  its  present  more  personal 
form,  but  the  making  of  it  was  none  the  less  a  work  of 
collaboration. 

Enough  only  of  the  personal  has  been  introduced  into 
this  "Interpretation"  to  serve  as  a  background  for  the 
professional  point  of  view.  I  am  well  aware  that  any  inter- 
pretation of  one's  generation  to  be  of  value  must  be  gen- 
uinely and  broadly  human.  But  the  next  demand,  as  I 


PREFACE  ix 

apprehend,  is  for  definiteness  of  view,  a  certain  recognizable 
if  not  authorized  relation  of  the  would-be  interpreter  to  his 
time.  Such  a  relation  may  be  properly  assumed  to  exist  be- 
tween a  man  and  his  profession.  As  compared  with  the  out- 
look of  a  mere  observer,  the  professional  view  is  from  within 
the  generation.  It  is  more  than  a  view;  it  is  an  experience, 
an  experience  of  the  inner  life  of  the  generation  and  of  its 
responsible  activities.  Among  the  professions  of  my  time,  I 
know  of  none  which  made  more  vital  contacts  with  the 
working  forces  of  the  generation,  or  shared  more  sensi- 
tively in  the  quickening  or  disturbing  influences  of  its  in- 
tellectual life  than  the  ministry.  There  were  at  least  three 
specific  objects  of  very  great  interest  and  concern  to  the 
ministry,  in  so  far  as  it  was  affected  by  the  progressive 
spirit  of  the  new  era  —  the  advancement  of  theology,  the 
development  of  the  social  conscience  into  an  agency  ade- 
quate for  social  progress,  and  the  expansion  of  the  higher 
education  to  admit  the  subject-matter  and  discipline  of 
the  new  knowledge.  This  last  object,  especially  as  it  came 
within  the  range  of  the  ministry  through  the  New  England 
traditions,  involved  the  reconstruction  of  the  institutional 
life  of  the  colleges  quite  as  much  as  the  readjustment  of 
the  curriculum. 

During  the  period  of  my  two  pastorates  (1867-80)  it  can 
hardly  be  said  that  these  objects  had  taken  definite  shape. 
I  was  more  conscious  of  a  general  enlargement  of  the  scope 
of  the  ministry  —  at  Manchester,  of  the  widening  outlook 
toward  industrialism;  in  New  York,  of  a  growing  sensitive^ 
ness  to  the  human  needs  of  the  city.  There  was,  however, 
the  increasing  consciousness  that  the  prevailing  unrest 
was  seeking  definition  as  the  first  step  toward  satisfaction. 
And  it  was  with  the  purpose  of  entering  into  a  clearer 


x  PREFACE 

understanding  of  the  new  responsibilities  of  the  ministry, 
and  of  taking  some  more  directive  part  in  the  training  of 
men  for  its  new  duties  that  I  made  the  change  from  the 
work  of  the  pastorate  to  that  of  the  schools. 

The  two  periods  which  follow  that  of  the  pastorate, 
which  I  have  designated  the  Andover  period  (1880-93) 
and  the  Dartmouth  period  (1893-1909)  were  outwardly 
unlike  —  one  was  theological,  the  other  was  educational; 
one  was  controversial,  the  other  altogether  constructive. 
But  the  same  influences  from  without  and  the  same  spirit 
within  were  at  work  in  each.  In  the  circumstances  of  the 
time,  theological  advancement,  including  the  new  socio- 
logical development,  and  educational  reconstruction  were 
not  far  apart  in  aim  or  method.  I  have  not,  however,  used 
these  general  terms  to  designate  the  two  periods,  because 
I  have  wished  to  emphasize  in  each  case  the  institutional 
element.  The  so-called  Andover  Controversy  was  singu- 
larly out  of  place  —  it  belonged  anywhere  rather  than  at 
Andover  —  but  because  of  its  variance  with  all  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Seminary  it  doubtless  "fell  out"  to  the  further- 
ance of  theological  freedom  and  progress  in  a  way  impossi- 
ble in  an  unprogressive  school.  The  part  which  Dartmouth 
took  in  educational  reconstruction  was  similar  to  that 
taken  by  other  colleges  of  its  grade,  but  there  was  that 
about  the  process  as  carried  out  which  gave  it  an  institu- 
tional result  quite  distinctive  and  unique.  As  a  college 
administrator,  my  work  included  a  specific  task  under- 
taken for  an  institution  which  had  summoned  its  loyal 
alumni  to  meet  in  its  behalf  a  belated  and  restive  oppor- 
tunity. 

The  closing  period  to  which  I  have  referred  under  the 
title,  "The  New  Reservation  of  Time,"  represents,  in  the 


PREFACE  xi 

changed  conditions  of  modern  life,  a  new  but  most  valu- 
able perquisite  of  age.  It  has  been  to  me,  in  its  extent  at 
least,  an  unexpected  gift,  reaching  now  to  a  decade,  and 
enhanced  in  value  beyond  all  estimate  by  the  events 
which  have  crowded  the  later  years.  To  have  lived  in  such 
a  period,  to  have  shared  in  its  grave  anxieties  and  mighty 
hopes,  to  have  been  able  to  study  into  the  causes  which 
were  producing  such  momentous  sacrifices  and  struggles, 
and  to  have  been  allowed  to  witness  the  final  consumma- 
tion, all  this  has  made  the  period  of  retirement  more 
significant,  even  within  the  sphere  of  personal  expression, 
than  any  preceding  period  of  responsible  activity.  It  has 
not  been,  I  trust,  inconsistent  either  with  previous  activi- 
ties, or  with  the  natural  restraints  consequent  upon  official 
retirement,  that  I  have  ventured  from  time  to  time,  under 
the  stimulus  of  passing  events,  into  the  open  field  of  the 
publicist. 

I  am  indebted  for  the  title  of  this  book,  as  well  as  for 
many  other  helpful  suggestions,  to  Mr.  Homer  E.  Keyes, 
Business  Director  of  Dartmouth.  His  advice  and  aid  in  re- 
gard to  illustrations  have  been  of  peculiar  value.  The  map 
of  Dartmouth  College  was  especially  prepared  by  Mr. 
Harry  G.  Wells,  Superintendent  of  Buildings  and  Grounds. 

Professor  Frank  H.  Dixon  very  kindly  assumed  the 
reading  of  the  proof.  This  meant  much  more  than  the  cor- 
rection of  errors  in  print  (these  are  slight  in  the  galleys  of 
The  Riverside  Press).  It  meant  in  the  present  instance  the 
verification  of  quotations  and  dates,  and  not  infrequently 
the  revision  of  paragraphs,  in  order  to  avoid  those  repeti- 
tions and  inconsistencies  which  were  liable  in  a  book  dic- 
tated at  intervals  as  strength  permitted. 


xii  PREFACE 

I  desire  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the  continued 
hospitality  of  Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  a  hospitality 
which,  in  one  form  or  another,  I  have  enjoyed  for  more 
than  thirty  years. 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

July,  1919 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Fortune  of  my  Generation 1 

An  Introductory  Retrospect 1 

II.  The  Personal  Background 19 

Ancestry  and  Early  Home 20 

School  and  College 80 

III.  The  Environment  of  the  Civil  War   ....    41 

IV.  The  Profession  of  the  Ministry 51 

V.  Two  Pastorates 63 

The  Franklin  Street  (Congregational)  Church,  Man- 
chester, New  Hampshire,  1867-1875     ....    64 

The  Madison  Square  (Presbyterian)  Church,  New  York 
City,  1875-1880    ., 71 

VI.  The  Progressive  Movement  in  Theology      .      .    90 

VII .  The  Andover  Period  :  Ando ver  as  a  Storm  Center 

and  as  a  Working  Center,  1880-1893     .      .      .100 

I.    The  Opening  Phase  of  the  Andover  Controversy  101 

II.    The  Andover  Movement  and  the  Religious  Public  125 

III.  Andover  as  a  Working  Center  during  the  Decade 

of  Conflict 159 

IV.  The  Andover  Trial  and  its  Result    .      .      .      .185 

VIII.  Andover  and  Dartmouth,  1892 222 

IX.   The  Dartmouth  Period:  Modernizing  an  His- 
toric College,  1893-1909 248 

I.    "The  Corporate  Consciousness  of  the  College"  .  249 


xiv  CONTENTS 

II.  The  Traditions  of  Dartmouth 271 

III.  Reconstruction  and  Expansion 296 

IV.  The  New  Morale 323 

V.  An  Advanced  Policy  toward   Non-Professional 

Graduates 349 

VI.    Professional  and   Public   Relations  during  the 

Presidency 362 

VII.   Two  Years  of  Crippled  Leadership  ....  394 

X.  "The  New  Reservation  of  Time" 414 

A  Partial  Resumption  of  Literary  and  Semi-Public  Work  414 

Index 453 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

William  Jewett  Tucker      .       .       .  Photogravure  frontispiece 
The  Tucker  Homestead  at  Griswold,  Connecticut  .    20 

Dartmouth  College,  1857-61 36 

Professors  in  Andover  Seminary  in  the  Early  Sixties    56 

Calvin  E.  Stowe,  Austin  Phelps,  Edwards  A.  Park 

Madison  Square  Church  in  the  Seventies        ...    74 
The  Defendants  in  the  Andover  Trial      ....  188 

George  Harris,  William  J.  Tucker,  Egbert  C.  Smyth,  Edward  Y.  Hincks, 
John  W.  Churchill 

The  Tucker  Home  at  Andover 230 

The  Seminary  Grounds  opposite  the  House      .       .       .  230 

Tomb  of  Eleazar  Wheelock,  Hanover        ....  272 

The  Laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of  the  New  Dart- 
mouth Hall 276 

Map  of  Dartmouth  College  Grounds 310 

College  Hall  (College  Club  and  Commons)     .       .       .314 

Edward  Tuck 318 

Webster  Hall 322 

Rollins  Chapel  Interior  after  the  First  Enlargement  344 

President  Tucker,  1899        .       . 364 

The  Home  on  Occom  Ridge  overlooking  the  River      .416 

The  Connecticut  River  at  Hanover 432 

In  Retirement 448 


MY  GENERATION 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION 

An  Introductory  Retrospect 

The  generation  which  was  beginning  to  take  shape  and 
character  when  I  came  of  age,  was  to  have  the  peculiar 
fortune,  whether  to  its  disadvantage  or  to  its  distinction, 
of  finding  its  own  way  into  what  we  now  call  the  "modern 
world."  If  I  were  to  characterize  the  generation  as  I  look 
back  upon  its  course,  I  should  say  that  it  was  by  this  neces- 
sity a  self-educated  generation.  The  great  gift  of  educa- 
tional value  which  came  to  it  from  the  past,  through  the 
faithful  transmission  of  the  previous  generation,  was  disci- 
pline, the  intellectual  and  moral  discipline  of  the  old  re- 
gime. The  actual  process  of  self-education  began  with  its 
conscious  entrance  into  the  world  of  the  new  knowledge 
and  of  the  new  values,  constantly  opening  before  it.  This 
process  was  progressive  rather  than  cumulative.  Men  no 
longer  estimated  one  another  by  the  relative  amount  of 
their  knowledge,  but  rather  by  their  relative  power  of  in- 
tellectual initiative,  by  their  ability  to  enter  the  new  fields 
of  inquiry  and  research,  and  to  occupy  advanced  positions. 
I  have  referred  to  this  peculiar  condition  or  circumstance 
in  which  the  lot  of  my  generation  was  cast,  as  its  fortune. 
It  came,  that  is,  in  the  order  of  time,  and  not,  with  a 
single  exception,  by  the  compulsion  of  some  great  inher- 
itance, or  by  the  setting  apart  to  some  specific  duty. 
The  stimulus,  the  incentive,  the  challenge  was  altogether 


2  MY  GENERATION 

in  the  situation  itself.  Men  found  themselves  singularly- 
stirred  to  think  new  thoughts  and  to  attempt  new  methods 
of  action.  There  was  no  manifest  unity  of  purpose  in  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  but  all  movements,  though  often  conflict- 
ing, were  seen  to  make  for  progress.  Gradually  the  desire 
and  struggle  for  progress  became  the  unifying  purpose  of 
the  generation.  The  self -education  of  which  I  have  spoken 
developed  more  and  more  in  all  departments  of  life  into  a 
passion  for  progress. 

The  peculiar  fortune  of  the  generation  becomes  evi- 
dent and  clear  as  we  give  due  account  to  its  place  in 
the  order  of  time.  It  explains  what  was  by  far  the  most 
significant  fact  in  its  fortune,  namely,  its  intellectual  de- 
tachment in  so  large  degree  from  the  past.  It  is  not  difficult 
to  place  the  cause,  or  to  fix  the  date  of  the  break  between 
the  old  order  of  thought  and  the  new,  provided  we  make 
due  allowance  for  the  intervening  period  between  the  time 
when  the  break  took  place,  and  the  time  when  it  took  effect. 
By  common  consent,  the  break  came  with  the  publication 
of  the  "Origin  of  Species."  This  was  in  the  fall  of  1859.  The 
significance,  however,  of  the  publication  of  the  "Notes," 
as  Mr.  Darwin  modestly  called  the  treatise,  was  not  readily 
apprehended,  doubtless  in  part  because  of  the  unassuming 
way  in  which  it  was  put  forth.  The  most  that  Mr.  Darwin 
then  claimed  is  summed  up  in  the  following  words,  of  which 
the  last  sentence  only  is  now  really  prophetic:  "When  the 
views  entertained  in  this  volume  on  the  origin  of  species, 
or  when  analogous  views  are  generally  admitted,  we  can 
dimly  foresee  that  there  will  be  a  considerable  revolution  in 
natural  history.  ...  In  the  distant  future  I  see  open  fields 
for  far  more  important  researches.  Psychology  will  be 
based  on  a  new  foundation,  that  of  the  necessary  acquire- 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION  3 

ment  of  each  natural  power  and  capacity  by  gradation. 
Light  will  be  thrown  on  the  origin  of  man  and  his  his- 
tory." It  was  not  till  1871  that  Darwin  published  "The 
Descent  of  Man,"  embodying  his  conclusions  regarding 
the  derivation  of  man's  nature  from  lower  and  still  lower 
forms  of  animal  life. 

An  interesting  reminiscence,  showing  the  rather  casual 
manner  in  which  the  earlier  volume  came  to  the  notice  of 
persons  of  culture  in  this  country,  has  been  given  by  the 
late  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  C.  Caverno,  of  Lombard,  Illinois. 
Dr.  Caverno  was  at  the  time  of  the  incident  a  young 
lawyer  in  Milwaukee,  and  was  acting  as  chairman  of  a 
committee  on  the  Public  Library  of  the  city.  "Sometime 
in  the  winter  of  1859-60,"  he  says,  "Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son, who  was  then  giving  a  course  of  lectures  in  Milwau- 
kee, asked  me  if  I  could  procure  him  a  copy  of  a  book  on 
Species,  which  an  Englishman  had  published  lately,  and 
he  added, '  from  what  I  have  heard  it  is  likely  to  make  the 
dry  bones  rattle.'  I  have  given,"  Dr.  Caverno  adds,  "Mr. 
Emerson's  description  of  the  book  he  was  after,  for  he  gave 
no  name  of  author  or  definite  title  of  book." 

However  casual  may  have  been  the  introduction  of  "The 
Origin  of  Species"  among  general  readers  of  non-scientific 
habits,  it  was  not  long  before  it  began  to  change  the  intel- 
lectual atmosphere.  It  gradually  changed  the  point  of  view. 
Men  began  to  see  things  differently.  The  intellectual  de- 
tachment from  the  past  was  brought  about  chiefly  through 
this  change  in  the  point  of  view,  —  a  change  set  forth  with 
great  clearness  by  Mr.  Balfour  in  his  analytic  retrospect 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  "No  century,"  he  says,  "has 
seen  so  great  a  change  in  our  intellectual  apprehension  of 
the  world  in  which  we  live.  It  is  not  merely  that  this  cen- 


4  MY  GENERATION 

tury  has  witnessed  a  prodigious  and  unexampled  growth  in 
our  stock  of  knowledge,  —  for  new  knowledge  might  ac- 
cumulate without  end,  and  yet  do  nothing  more  than  fill 
in,  without  materially  changing  the  outline  already  traced 
by  the  old.  Something  much  more  important  than  this  has 
happened.  Our  whole  point  of  view  has  altered.  The  mental 
framework  in  which  we  arrange  the  separate  facts  in  the 
world  of  men  and  of  things  is  quite  a  new  framework.  The 
spectacle  of  the  universe  presents  itself  now  in  a  wholly 
changed  perspective.  We  do  not  see  more,  but  we  see 
differently."  i 

Doubtless  the  intellectual  detachment  from  the  past 
was  effected  with  less  violence  through  changing  the  point 
of  view,  than  would  have  been  possible  through  any  other 
method.  And  yet  the  result  was  not  gained  without  oppo- 
sition, and  in  some  quarters  sharp  antagonisms.  The  scien- 
tific renaissance,  if  such  we  choose  to  term  it,  was  not  like 
the  revival  of  letters  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  cen- 
turies, making  itself  felt  through  the  diffusion  of  light  and 
culture,  and  creating  a  more  spiritual  environment.  In  re- 
ality, it  was  not  so  much  a  renaissance  as  a  revolution.  It 
became  articulate  as  a  challenge,  calling  in  question  the 
established  order  of  thought,  and  summoning  men  to  new 
ways  of  thinking.  The  controversial  aspect  of  the  scientific 
renaissance  or  revolution  became  manifest  more  quickly 
and  more  seriously  in  Great  Britain  than  in  this  country. 
This  was  due,  I  think,  in  no  small  measure  to  the  presence 
of  such  pugnacious  advocates  of  the  new  theories  as  Huxley 
and  Tyndall,  who  found  a  welcome  opportunity  for  con- 
troversy in  the  conservatism  and  conventionalism  of  the 
English  Church.  So  sensitive  were  the  religious  interests 
which  the  controversy  touched,  that  men  quite  remote 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION  5 

from  ecclesiastical  or  theological  connections  were  drawn 
into  it.  As  early  as  1864  Disraeli,  in  a  speech  before  a  di- 
oscesan  conference  at  Oxford,  uttered  his  famous  mot  — 
"The  question  before  us  is  this,  Is  man  an  ape  or  an  angel? 
I,  my  lord,  I  am  on  the  side  of  the  angels."  Within  the  next 
decade,  Oxford  was  aflame  with  the  controversial  spirit 
which  had  spread  in  all  directions.  "Darwinism,"  says 
Mrs.  Humphry  Ward  in  her  recent  "Recollections,"  "was 
penetrating  everywhere;  Pusey  was  preaching  against  its 
effects  on  belief;  Balliol  stood  for  an  unfettered  history 
and  criticism,  Christ  Church  for  authority  and  creeds; 
Renan's  'Origines'  were  still  coming  out,  Strauss's  last 
book  also;  my  uncle  [Matthew  Arnold]  was  publishing 
'God  and  the  Bible'  in  succession  to  'Literature  and 
Dogma';  and  'Supernatural  Religion'  was  making  no 
small  stir." 

That  the  controversy  was  carried  on  with  less  bitterness 
in  this  country  was  due  in  part,  of  course,  to  the  preoccu- 
pation of  mind  with  the  affairs  of  the  nation  (1860-70),  but 
still  in  part  to  the  different  religious  or  ecclesiastical  condi- 
tions which  obtained  here.  The  difference  in  tone  may  also 
be  attributed  to  the  marked  contrast  in  the  temper  of  our 
leading  scientists  of  the  period  —  Agassiz,  Gray,  and 
Dana.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  attempted  sarcasm  of  the 
Disraeli  order,  which  found  expression  in  the  pulpit,  but 
the  higher  religious  journals  and  reviews  spoke  with  be- 
coming restraint.  Especially  noticeable  in  this  regard  was 
a  series  of  articles  in  the  "Bibliotheca  Sacra,"  the  leading 
theological  review  of  the  time,  by  Professor  George  Fred- 
erick Wright  of  Oberlin,  then  the  young  pastor  of  the  Free 
Church  in  Andover,  Massachusetts.  These  papers  were 
characterized  by  a  breadth  and  candor,  and  above  all  by 


6  MY  GENERATION 

a  thorough  comprehension  of  the  real  questions  at  issue, 
which  make  them  still  an  example  of  fair-minded  and  in- 
telligent discussion  in  place  of  controversy. 

The  secondary  stages  of  the  scientific  controversy  in  this 
country  were  more  marked  than  the  earlier  stages  in  their 
effect  upon  religion.  The  various  phases  of  Biblical  Criti- 
cism, which  followed  as  a  natural  sequence  from  the  appli- 
cation of  the  new  scientific  standards  to  the  Bible,  awak- 
ened more  concern,  and  stirred  more  bitterness,  than  the 
new  hypothesis  regarding  the  origin  of  man.  And  the  after 
effect  of  the  controversy  upon  the  popular  as  well  as  upon 
the  critical  mind  was  for  the  time  disturbing  to  religious 
faith.  The  wave  of  agnosticism  which  spread  over  the 
country  necessitated  various  changes  in  the  presentation 
of  religious  truth.  A  larger  place  was  given  in  the  teaching 
of  the  seminaries  to  the  department  of  Apologetics;  more 
emphasis  was  placed  by  the  pulpit  upon  conduct  and  duty; 
and  gradually  there  was  an  appropriation  of  the  new 
truths  disclosed  by  science  in  the  interest  of  ethics  and  of 
faith.  As  a  general  result,  I  think  that  it  may  now  be  said 
that  the  loss  to  religion  of  certain  dogmatic  but  divisive 
beliefs  found  in  due  time  its  compensation,  in  the  insistence 
placed  upon  the  function  of  conscience  in  the  interpreta- 
tion, as  well  as  in  the  enforcement  of  religion. 

I  have  referred  at  some  length  to  the  religious  contro- 
versy attending  the  scientific  revolution,  because  it  pro- 
duced at  first  a  greater  effect  as  a  disturbing  force  in  reli- 
gion than  as  a  constructive  force  in  education.  Of  this  lat- 
ter effect  I  shall  have  much  to  say  in  detail  hereafter.  The 
educational  effect  when  it  came  was  twofold :  it  brought  in 
a  vast  amount  of  new  subject-matter,  and  it  changed  alto- 
gether the  method  of  the  higher  education.  Of  these  two 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION  7 

effects,  the  latter  was  by  far  the  more  revolutionary.  In 
fact,  the  scientific  method  may  be  said  to  have  created  some 
subjects  in  the  curriculum  of  the  colleges,  to  have  recre- 
ated others,  and  to  have  changed  the  relative  position  of 
certain  other  subjects,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ancient  and 
modern  languages.  Within  the  range  of  college  and  univer- 
sity teaching,  the  greatest  contribution  of  the  scientific 
method  was  the  graduate  school.  Various  attempts  of  a 
partial  nature  had  been  made  to  anticipate  this  object,  but 
the  opening  of  Johns  Hopkins  in  1876  inaugurated  the 
epoch  of  graduate  instruction.  Beyond  this  contribution 
was  the  establishment  of  the  research  foundation,  separat- 
ing investigation  from  teaching,  in  which  Johns  Hopkins 
led  the  way  in  the  advanced  study  of  medicine. 

I  have  emphasized  the  fact  that,  with  a  single  exception, 
the  fortune  of  my  generation  was  not  predetermined  by  its 
inheritance.  That  exception  however,  though  local,  was  of 
the  highest  consequence.  Before  it  passed  off  the  stage, 
the  preceding  generation  in  this  country  had  reached  the 
climax  of  its  moral  power  in  the  struggle  for  the  abolition 
of  slavery.  A  part  of  its  unfinished  task  went  over  to  my 
generation.  The  whole  spirit  of  the  struggle  went  over  as  a 
moral  heritage,  —  the  bequest  of  the  Puritan  conscience  at 
the  stage  of  its  greatest  activity.  The  bequest  took  prece- 
dence of  the  new  gifts  which  marked  the  intellectual 
abundance  of  the  modern  age.  It  was  not  something  to  be 
accepted  or  denied :  it  was  to  be  taken  at  its  full  value  and 
put  to  immediate  use.  Due  consideration  must  be  given  to 
this  relation  of  the  generation  to  its  moral  heritage,  as  the 
explanation  in  part  of  the  slow  awakening  of  intellectual 
life  in  this  country  to  the  scientific  renaissance.  To  go  back 
no  farther  than  the  opening  decade  of  the  last  half  of  the 


8  MY  GENERATION 

century,  we  find  that  the  generation  then  in  responsible 
relation  to  the  country  was  charged  with  the  moral  passion 
of  the  struggle  leading  up  to  and  culminating  in  the  Civil 
War.  Compared  with  the  very  complex  issues  which 
marked  the  close  of  the  century,  social,  economic,  and 
political,  the  issues  of  that  time  were  simple,  almost  ele- 
mental. There  were  but  two  vital  questions  before  the 
people,  the  preservation  of  the  Union,  and  the  elimination 
of  slavery,  and  gradually  these  became  one  and  the  same 
question.  The  Seventh  of  March  Speech  by  Mr.  Webster 
(1850)  was  the  last  serious  but  pathetic  effort,  —  pathetic 
both  in  its  sincerity  and  in  its  futility,  —  to  save  the  Union 
without  first  destroying  slavery.  Thenceforth,  throughout 
the  decade,  the  struggle  was  essentially  "the  anti-slavery 
struggle."  The  consequences  to  the  nation  itself  were  not 
sufficiently  imminent  to  restrain  or  confuse  the  moral  sen- 
timent which  was  aroused.  It  was  not  until  the  war  was 
well  under  way  that  the  preservation  of  the  Union  was  seen 
to  be  the  paramount,  because  the  inclusive  issue,  (as  was 
predicted  by  Mr.  Webster),  carrying  with  it  as  a  national 
necessity  the  destruction  of  slavery.  The  spirit  of  nation- 
ality, which  had  dominated  the  mind  of  Mr.  Webster  in 
his  view  of  the  impending  conflict,  then  reasserted  itself 
in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  In  his  reply,  August  22, 1862, 
to  the  open  letter  of  Horace  Greeley  in  the  "New  York 
Tribune,"  severely  criticizing  the  policy  of  the  Administra- 
tion, Mr.  Lincoln  made  this  clear  and  decisive  statement 
of  his  policy:  "My  paramount  object  in  this  struggle  is  to 
save  the  Union,  and  is  not  either  to  save  or  to  destroy  sla- 
very. .  .  What  I  do  about  slavery  and  the  colored  race, 
I  do  because  I  believe  it  helps  to  save  the  Union;  and  what 
I  forbear,  I  forbear  because  I  do  not  believe  it  would  helj) 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION  9 

to  save  the  Union."  And  yet  so  inextricably  was  the  de- 
struction of  slavery  bound  up  in  the  saving  of  the  Union 
that  a  month  after  the  date  of  the  above  statement,  Mr. 
Lincoln  issued  the  preliminary  proclamation  of  emancipa- 
tion, an  act  to  which  he  afterwards  referred  as  "the  cen- 
tral act  of  my  administration." 

It  was  because  of  the  fact  that  the  Civil  War,  as  it  ad- 
vanced, became  more  and  more  on  the  part  of  the  North  a 
struggle  for  the  national  existence,  that  the  anti-slavery 
feeling  was  stronger,  certainly  more  demonstrative  in  the 
decade  preceding  the  war  than  during  the  war.  Through- 
out that  decade  slavery,  in  and  of  itself,  was  the  para- 
mount issue.  It  vexed,  with  increasing  intensity,  the  con- 
science of  the  North.  Occasions  calculated  to  arouse  and 
inflame  public  sentiment  followed  one  another  in  rapid 
succession,  —  the  arrest  of  the  fugitive  slave,  Anthony 
Burns,  in  the  streets  of  Boston,  and  like  incidents  connected 
with  the  enforcement  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  the  fraud- 
ulent and  violent  attempts  to  impose  slavery  upon  Kansas, 
the  assault  upon  Charles  Sumner  at  his  desk  in  the  Senate 
Chamber,  the  Dred  Scott  Decision,  the  John  Brown  Raid, 
the  secession  of  South  Carolina.  The  anti-slavery  literature 
of  the  time,  often  the  product  of  genius,  compelled  public 
attention.  This  literature  was  remarkable  for  its  variety,  — 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  the  editorials  of  Garrison  and  Gree- 
ley, the  sermons  and  addresses  of  Beecher,  the  platform 
speeches  of  Phillips,  the  prophetic  utterances  of  Whittier 
and  Lowell,  the  debates  of  Seward  and  Sumner  in  the  Sen- 
ate, and  the  campaign  speeches  of  Lincoln  in  reply  to 
Douglas. 

Perhaps  the  most  effective  agency  for  the  propagation 
of  the  anti-slavery  reform  was  the  lecture  platform,  then 


io  MY  GENERATION 

known  as  the  Lyceum,  as  it  gave  the  reformer  direct  access 
to  the  people.  Nearly  all  the  popular  lecturers  of  the  time 
were  pronounced  anti-slavery  men.  When  they  discussed 
other  subjects  than  slavery,  they  made  their  personal  influ- 
ence felt  for  the  "cause."  The  reply  of  Wendell  Phillips  to 
a  lecture  committee,  when  asked  for  his  terms,  embodied 
the  spirit  of  the  whole  anti-slavery  brotherhood,  —  "Let 
me  take  my  subject  and  I'll  come  for  nothing:  for  any 
other  subject  seventy-five  dollars."  Out  of  this  training 
there  came  not  only  moral  but  intellectual  results  of  a  high 
order.  The  anti-slavery  agitation  produced  its  own  school 
of  thought  and  style.  In  many  instances,  the  school  gave 
the  equivalent  of  a  liberal  education.  Garrison,  Greeley, 
and  Whittier  were  not  college  graduates,  but  they  were 
the  intellectual  peers  of  Phillips,  Lowell,  and  Seward.  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  the  conspicuous  product  of  the  school.  With- 
out the  slightest  advantage  from  any  of  the  conventional 
forms  of  intellectual  training,  except  his  early  practice  in 
the  local  courts,  he  became,  and  remains,  among  the  men 
of  his  time  the  acknowledged  master  of  argument  and 
style.  Recalling  the  fact  that  the  subject-matter  of  Mr. 
Lincoln's  thought  was  chiefly  concerned  with  slavery,  it  is 
interesting  to  note  the  relative  proportion  of  his  public  ut- 
terances, compared  with  those  of  other  men,  which  has 
been  incorporated  into  literature,  —  the  speech  in  Cooper 
Institute,  remarkable  for  its  simplicity,  its  logical  power, 
and  its  moral  grandeur;  the  second  Inaugural,  without  a 
like  or  equal  among  state  papers  in  the  records  of  any 
nation,  and  the  Gettysburg  Speech,  unmatched  for  its 
chastened  eloquence. 

A  singular  intellectual  and  moral  phenomenon  is  the  re- 
appearance of  Mr.  Lincoln  in  connection  with  the  issues 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION  n 

and  events  of  the  present  war,  through  frequent  reference 
to  his  acts,  and  through  constant  quotations  from  his 
messages  and  speeches.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  read  any  of 
the  English  papers  for  a  month  —  notably  the  London 
"  Spectator  "  —  without  meeting  with  some  serious  allu- 
sion to  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  appears  to  be  more  in  evidence 
than  any  British  statesman.  Very  much  of  this  return  to 
him  is  due  to  the  similarity  between  the  fundamental 
issues  at  stake  in  the  present  war,  and  those  of  the  Civil 
War,  but  much  more  to  Mr.  Lincoln  himself,  and  to  his 
incomparable  power  of  stating  moral  principles  with  a 
finality  which  holds  good  for  all  time. 

It  was  impossible  that  such  a  moral  campaign  as  that  of 
the  anti-slavery  speakers  and  writers  could  be  waged  for 
any  length  of  time  without  producing  definite  and  far- 
reaching  results.  Early  in  the  decade  (1850-60),  the  public 
sentiment  thus  created  began  to  crystallize  in  local  politi- 
cal organizations  in  several  of  the  Northern  States.  In 
1856,  the  national  Republican  party  was  formed,  pledged 
to  resist  the  further  encroachment  of  the  slave  power.  Af- 
ter a  single  defeat  in  a  national  contest,  the  party  effected 
the  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln  to  the  Presidency.  When  the 
war  actually  came,  it  was  to  many  a  war  of  atonement  for 
the  wrongs  of  slavery,  a  war  of  national  repentance.  And 
such  it  was  to  the  end  in  the  deep  undercurrent  of  the  na- 
tional feeling,  as  interpreted  by  Mr.  Lincoln  in  the  memo- 
rable passage  from  his  second  Inaugural,  March  4,  1865: 
"Fondly  do  we  hope —  fervently  do  we  pray  —  that  this 
mighty  scourge  of  war  may  speedily  pass  away.  Yet,  if  God 
wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the  wealth  piled  by  the  bonds- 
man's two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  unrequited  toil  shall 
be  sunk,  and  until  every  drop  of  blood  drawn  with  the 


12  MY  GENERATION 

lash  shall  be  paid  by  another  drawn  with  the  sword,  as  was 
said  three  thousand  years  ago,  so  still  it  must  be  said, 
"The  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  righteous  alto- 
gether.'" 

The  revival  of  Puritanism,  which  was  so  evident  through- 
out the  anti-slavery  conflict,  and  to  a  large  degree  through- 
out the  war,  was  naturally  followed  by  a  certain  relaxation 
of  the  national  conscience  when  the  war  was  over.  The 
moral  tension  could  not  be  maintained  after  the  crisis  was 
passed.  There  was  also  a  distinct  lowering  of  the  intellec- 
tual tone  of  national  politics.  The  period  which  followed 
the  Civil  War  had  little  of  the  moral  grandeur  of  the  period 
which  preceded  it,  and  much  less  intellectual  power.  Had 
Mr.  Lincoln  lived,  the  result  might  have  been  different, — 
possibly  not.  Other  men  fell  below  their  standards.  The 
debates  in  Congress,  which  had  been  characterized  by 
seriousness  and  dignity,  even  when  most  heated,  were 
marked  more  and  more  by  party  animosities,  and  by  per- 
sonal bitterness.  The  Government  remained  substantially 
in  the  hands  of  the  men  who  had  carried  the  nation  through 
the  war,  but  their  statesmanship  was  not  so  evidently 
equal  to  the  new  task.  Divergent  policies  on  the  part  of  the 
leaders  resulted  in  much  confusion,  and  led  to  many  un- 
wise and  arbitrary  acts.  Corruption  also,  which  had  not 
been  altogether  absent  during  the  war,  came  in  more  openly 
in  the  process  of  reorganizing  the  States  that  had  been 
in  rebellion.  On  the  whole,  the  political  atmosphere  which 
hung  over  the  nation  during  the  period  of  reconstruction 
was  heavy  and  depressing.  There  were  those  who  saw  or 
affected  to  see  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  coincident  with 
the  close  of  the  war,  a  possible  advantage  to  the  country  in 
the  transfer  of  the  executive  authority  to  sterner  hands, 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION     13 

but  the  immediate  effect  was  a  moral  relapse.  And  time  has 
shown  that  what  the  work  of  reconstruction  most  lacked 
was  the  moral  genius  of  Mr.  Lincoln. 

It  may  not,  however,  be  assumed  that  because  the  na- 
tion suffered  a  certain  moral  relapse  after  the  war,  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moral  heritage  became  a  spent  force.  The  im- 
pulse persisted,  especially  in  its  continuous  influence  upon 
individual  life.  Men  went  about  their  work  under  a  new 
sense  of  responsibility.  Side  by  side  with  the  work  of  na- 
tional reconstruction,  there  was  the  vast  work  of  recon- 
structing the  economic,  social,  and  religious  life  of  the 
country,  which  was  in  one  way  or  another  every  man's 
business.  And  for  this  task  the  earlier  education,  with  its 
more  rigid  moral  discipline,  was  still  efficacious,  in  spite  of 
its  lessening  intellectual  authority.  It  remained,  as  I  have 
intimated,  a  steadying  force  in  the  midst  of  the  quickening 
but  distracting  influences  which  marked  the  incoming  of 
the  "modern  era."  In  referring  to  the  abolition  of  slavery 
as  the  unfinished  task  of  Puritanism,  I  do  not  assert  that 
the  accomplishment  of  this  end  completes  its  task.  But 
later  movements  of  the  moral  order  have  not  been  so  dis- 
tinctively the  work  of  Puritanism.  What  we  have  begun 
to  term  the  social  conscience  is  wider  in  its  sources  and 
broader  in  its  workings  than  the  anti-slavery  conscience. 
The  prohibition  crusade,  for  example,  is  of  the  South 
more  than  of  New  England.  Economic  crusades  have  their 
origin  most  frequently  in  the  West.  The  Puritan  conscience 
may  be  expected  to  go  over  into  the  national  blend  of  moral 
forces,  with  the  prestige  and  influence  attending  its  accom- 
plished results. 

In  the  further  estimate  of  the  causes  which  affected  the 
fortune  of  my  generation,  according  to  its  place  in  the  or- 


i4  MY  GENERATION 

der  of  time,  I  put  without  hesitancy  the  incoming  of  the 
new  social  order  consequent  upon  the  rise  of  industrialism. 
This  incoming  of  the  new  social  order  was  in  reality  a 
social  revolution,  though  lacking  most  of  the  usual  signs  of 
violence.  For  it  was  nothing  less  than  the  change  from  the 
individualistic  basis  of  society  to  the  collective  basis,  or,  if 
we  do  not  allow  the  political  implication  of  the  term,  to  the 
socialistic  basis.  And  the  change  came,  not  in  any  way  of 
evolution  from  the  existing  theory  or  state  of  society,  but 
altogether  through  the  compulsion  of  outer  forces.  Indi- 
vidualism, as  a  working  theory  of  society,  was  over- 
whelmed and  put  to  confusion  by  the  vast  output  of  the 
material  forces,  which  had  been  set  in  operation  by  the  dis- 
coveries and  applications  of  science.  True,  individualism 
itself  was  a  contributory  cause  in  this  material  expansion, 
perhaps  the  greatest,  because  furnishing  the  necessary  ini- 
tiative. But  whatever  may  have  been  the  relative  part 
taken  by  the  agencies  already  at  work,  the  situation  which 
they  created  forced  the  change.  The  old  order  could  not 
bear  the  strain  of  modern  industrialism. 

In  view  of  the  immense  pressure  of  industrialism  upon 
the  social  status,  the  result  produced  is  often  referred  to  as 
the  industrial  revolution.  But  this  designation  confounds 
one  of  the  greatest  of  the  causes  of  the  change  in  the  social 
order  with  the  change  itself,  —  the  change,  that  is,  from 
the  individualistic  to  the  socialistic  conception  of  society. 
This  revolutionary  change  reached  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
industrialism.  Still  the  results  were  most  quickly  and  most 
extensively  manifest  within  its  limits.  These  were  equally 
manifest  in  the  changes  wrought  in  each  of  the  two  great 
factors  of  industrialism,  capital  and  labor.  Capital  rapidly 
passed  from  the  hands  of  the  individual  into  the  control  of 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION     15 

the  corporation,  and  thence  into  the  control  of  the  trust. 
Labor  passed  in  like  manner  and  with  equal  step  from 
the  control  of  the  individual  to  that  of  the  union,  and  on 
to  that  of  the  federation.  Capitalist  and  workman  alike 
placed  themselves  under  self-imposed  limitations.  They  al- 
lowed themselves  to  disappear  as  individuals  to  reappear  as 
members  of  organizations.  Business  in  general  passed  from 
the  stage  of  individual  contract  to  that  of  collective  bar- 
gaining. The  change,  though  different  in  its  workings,  soon 
became  as  marked  in  trade  as  in  the  industries.  The  indi- 
vidual trader  gave  way  before  the  combination  or  the  syn- 
dicate. The  small  shop  was  merged  into  the  department 
store. 

Meanwhile  a  corresponding  change  was  going  on  in  the 
attitude  of  men  to  their  daily  work.  Work  came  to  mean 
employment,  and  getting  employment  meant  getting  a 
place,  or  a  position,  according  to  the  new  grading  of  work. 
The  effect  of  the  change  was  very  marked  in  the  case  of 
graduates  from  the  colleges  entering  on  a  business  career. 
The  first  years  of  effort  were  often  years  of  experimentation, 
—  the  trying  of  one  place  after  another  to  find,  if  possible, 
a  fit.  It  was  possible  to  make  a  place,  as  well  as  to  find  one, 
in  the  new  and  more  rigid  order,  but  it  required  greater 
power  of  initiative  and  invention,  and  especially  of  adapta- 
tion. 

The  political  effect  of  the  change  in  the  social  order  has 
thus  far  been  much  less  than  was  thought  probable,  much 
less  in  fact  than  might  have  been  expected.  The  advance 
on  the  socialistic  basis  has  stopped  far  short  of  socialism. 
Democracy  is  a  very  elastic  term.  It  may  mean  represent- 
ative government  or,  as  nearly  as  possible,  popular  gov- 
ernment. In  Mr.  Lincoln's  analysis  of  democratic  govern- 


16  MY  GENERATION 

ment  as  "of  the  people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people," 
it  is  the  second  distinction  only  that  is  really  concerned 
with  method.  The  social  revolution  placed  the  political 
stress  at  that  point,  but  it  effected  little  more  than  a  series 
of  experiments  in  popular  government.  No  radical  change 
was  carried  out,  and  few  were  attempted.  The  Government 
has  gradually  become  more  socialistic  in  its  working,  with- 
out making  any  appreciable  approach  to  socialism.  I  have 
referred  to  the  new  idea  of  place  or  position  in  the  daily 
work.  State  socialism  could  mean  nothing  less  than  the 
formal  if  not  arbitrary  placing  of  men,  the  assignment  of 
every  man  to  his  task.  In  this  ultimate  possibility,  abso- 
lutism and  socialism  are  not  far  apart  in  principle.  It  is 
impossible  to  conceal  the  fact  that  underneath  the  glowing 
promises  of  socialism,  there  lies  the  threat  of  a  grievous 
tyranny,  if  the  principle  should  be  carried  to  its  logical  con- 
clusion at  the  hands  of  an  industrial  democracy.  In  the 
momentous  struggle  now  raging,  it  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  organized  socialism  is  to  be  the  ally  of  democracy 
or  the  tool  of  absolutism. 

The  religious  effect  of  the  social  revolution  was  in  some 
respects  deeper  and  more  far-reaching  than  the  political 
effect.  It  changed  the  prevailing  type  of  religion.  Individ- 
ualism had  been  the  foundation  of  the  Protestant  faith, 
especially  of  Puritanism.  Now  men  began  to  think  in 
terms  of  social  Christianity.  "Even  the  Church,"  wrote 
Stanley  Leathes  in  the  introduction  to  "The  Latest  Age" 
in  the  series  of  Cambridge  Histories,  "  even  the  Church  has 
been  infected;  the  modern  priest  is  sometimes  more  con- 
cerned for  the  unemployed  than  for  the  unrepentant." 
This  sarcasm  hid  a  deep  truth.  Christianity  had  begun  to 
concern  itself  with  economic  conditions.  Poverty,  if  the 


THE  FORTUNE  OF  MY  GENERATION     17 

result  of  unemployment,  called  for  more  than  charity.  The 
relief  lay  in  social  justice,  a  term  which  came  into  service 
to  express  the  obligation  of  society  to  the  unemployed  or 
to  the  underpaid.  New  methods  of  meeting  this  obligation 
were  adopted.  Social  settlements  sprang  up  in  the  cities 
side  by  side  with  the  religious  mission  and  the  charity  or- 
ganization. The  Church  became  as  conspicuously  the 
agency  for  "social  service"  as  it  had  been  the  "means  of 
grace"  in  the  work  of  individual  salvation. 

The  social  revolution  has  brought  about  very  many 
changes,  more  numerous  however  and  more  varied  than 
radical  in  character.  On  the  whole  they  have  been  bene- 
ficial. They  have  made  the  return  to  a  narrow  individu- 
alism impossible.  But  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  social 
revolution  has  fulfilled  the  threat  or  the  promise  of  social- 
ism as  an  organized  power.  What  is  yet  in  store  for  the 
world  under  the  extension  and  closer  organization  of  so- 
cialism into  internationalism,  is  one  of  the  anxious  ques- 
tions attending  the  rapid  development  of  class  conscious- 
ness. Enough  has  transpired  to  show  that  communistic 
socialism  proposes  to  occupy  a  political  territory  outside 
and  beyond  the  limits  of  democracy.  Democracy,  as  the 
expression  of  the  will  of  the  majority,  can  have  no  place 
for  the  rule  of  a  conscious  minority,  the  working  tenet  of 
Bolshevism. 

Such  was  the  fortune  of  my  generation  in  respect  to  the 
time  in  which  its  lot  was  cast  —  a  time  of  new  and  aggres- 
sive intellectual  demands,  of  unfinished  moral  tasks,  of 
widespread  changes  in  the  social  order.  As  may  be  seen 
from  this  brief  retrospect,  it  was  not  a  time  through  which 
one  could  find  his  way  clearly,  either  the  way  of  knowledge 


i8  MY  GENERATION 

or  the  way  of  duty.  But  it  was  from  first  to  last,  as  I  have 
said,  a  period  of  incentive  and  challenge.  One  felt  all  the 
while  that  he  was  living  in  the  region  of  undiscovered 
truth.  He  was  constantly  made  aware  of  the  presence  of 
some  unsatisfied  opportunity.  When  compared  with  the 
times  which  have  burst  upon  us  with  such  sudden  and 
appalling  fury,  the  times  which  I  have  described  seem 
orderly  and  undisturbed;  but  when  at  last  the  true  per- 
spective of  history  is  reached,  I  doubt  not  that  they 
will  regain  their  natural  place  in  the  opening  era  of  the 
modern  world. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND 

Ancestry  and  Early  Home  —  School  and  College 

However  clearly  one  may  become  conscious  that  he  is  in 
and  of  his  own  generation,  he  is  for  a  time  still  more  con- 
scious that  his  point  of  view  lies  somewhere  along  the  line 
of  approach  to  it,  through  the  family  and  institutional  life 
of  the  past.  My  approach  to  my  generation  was  through 
the  New  England  home  and  the  New  England  college.  I 
am  still  conscious  that  these  gave  me  not  only  the  early 
point  of  view,  but  initiative,  direction,  and  restraint.  This 
fact  of  directive  force  is  emphasized  by  those  slight  diver- 
gences from  a  common  background  which  so  often  lead  to 
such  great  variety,  if  not  diversity,  of  result.  At  the  recep- 
tion attending  the  inauguration  of  Dr.  Alderman  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  University  of  Virginia,  I  was  greeted  with  great 
heartiness  by  one  of  the  older  members  of  the  Southern 
branch  of  my  own  family  —  "Well!  how  are  you  at  last, 
my  long  lost  brother?"  That  our  family  lines  had  not  often 
run  together  when  we  thus  met  was  due  to  a  divergence 
back  in  the  fourth  generation,  somewhere  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  of  four  brothers  who  left  the  old  home  in 
Kent  for  the  new  world,  one  came  by  way  of  Bermuda, 
to  which  he  had  received  a  government  appointment, 
from  whom  sprang  the  Southern  members  of  the  Tucker 
family  —  a  slight  divergence,  but  enough  to  spread  the 
family  lines  in  due  time  to  either  side  of  the  breach  of 
the  Civil  War. 


20  MY  GENERATION 

ANCESTRY  AND  EARLY  HOME 

The  town  of  Griswold,  Connecticut,  where  I  was  born 
July  13,  1839,  in  the  little  parish  of  Pachaug  lying  on  the 
river  of  the  same  name,  means  more  to  me  as  the  home  of 
my  ancestors  than  as  my  own  birthplace.  To  borrow  the 
euphemism,  through  which  a  quaint  old  friend  used  to  put 
aside  the  actual  place  of  his  birth  in  favor  of  the  place 
which  he  could  identify  by  memory,  "my  conscious  exist- 
ence began"  in  the  neighboring  city  of  Norwich,  to  which 
my  father  removed  soon  after  I  was  born.  My  grandfather 
Tucker  whose  name  I  took  (having  been  born  on  the  day 
of  his  burial)  was  the  fifth  in  descent  from  Robert  Tucker, 
who  brought  the  family  name  from  England  in  1635. 
Robert  Tucker  settled  first  in  Weymouth,  Massachusetts, 
and  afterwards  in  Gloucester,  and  Milton,  in  all  of  which 
places  he  filled  the  office  of  recorder  or  town  clerk.  Early  in 
the  next  century,  his  descendants  came  into  eastern  Con- 
necticut, into  what  afterwards  became  the  township  of 
Griswold ;  and  into  this  immediate  region  came  the  Lesters, 
the  Morgans,  the  Coits,  the  Johnsons,  the  Tylers,  the 
Lords,  —  families  with  which  my  own  family  came  into 
close  relationships.  As  will  be  seen  from  the  names,  these 
families  were  all  of  English  origin.  The  population  of  this 
part  of  Connecticut  was  at  this  date,  and  for  a  considerable 
time,  entirely  homogeneous,  with  a  single  exception.  There 
were  not  a  few  colored  people.  My  earliest  remembrance 
of  persons  is  of  my  colored  nurse. 

The  times  in  which  the  development  of  the  country  and 
the  blending  of  families  were  taking  place,  were  evidently 
prosperous  and  happy.  The  homes  which  still  remain  bear 
evidence  of  an  abundant  and  hospitable  domestic  life.  The 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         21 

land  was  brought  under  close  cultivation,  judging  by  the 
size  of  the  walled  fields.  The  streams  were  beginning  to  be 
utilized  for  manufacturing.  Jewett  City,  a  village  in  Gris- 
wold  lying  on  the  Quinnebaug,  grew  up  rapidly  into  a 
manufacturing  community.  Norwich,  the  center  of  trade 
and  of  social  life  in  the  region,  was  of  easy  access,  and  the 
Sound  boats  from  Norwich  brought  New  York  within  less 
than  a  day's  journey.  Even  rural  society  had  its  conven- 
tions, as  appears  from  the  fact,  of  which  I  have  been  di- 
rectly informed,  that  as  late  as  1840  families  were  seated 
in  the  village  of  Griswold  church  with  due  regard  to  their 
standing  in  the  community. 

My  grandfather's  house  stood  on  the  village  green.  It 
was  of  unusually  good  proportions,  and  ample  for  the  uses 
of  a  family  large  in  itself,  and  given  to  hospitality.  One 
feature  which  especially  delighted  me  in  my  early  visits 
was  the  stoop  —  a  large  room  open  to  the  south,  taking 
the  place  of  a  piazza,  but  offering  better  shelter  from  wind 
or  sun.  There  was  also  a  long  ell,  containing  several  extra 
rooms,  among  which  was  a  separate  housekeeping  apart- 
ment. This  arrangement  was,  in  accordance  with  the  provi- 
sion of  the  time,  for  unattached  women  near  of  kin.  In  the 
present  instance,  it  served  as  the  home  of  my  grandmother's 
sister,  known  as  Aunt  Zerviah,  whom  I  recall  as  a  most  vi- 
vacious old  lady  who  knew  how  to  add  very  much  to  the 
entertainment  of  a  visiting  boy.  I  have  often  thought  that 
the  custom  in  question  must  have  been  conducive  to  the 
self-respect  of  the  occupant  of  such  an  apartment,  and  also 
in  many  cases  to  the  harmony  of  large  country  households. 

My  grandfather  was  known  throughout  the  region  as 
"  Squire  Tucker,"  a  title  occasionally  given  by  courtesy  to 
some  man  prominent  in  affairs.  Judged  by  his  success  in 


22  MY  GENERATION 

business,  especially  as  a  pioneer  in  manufacturing,  he  was 
a  man  of  marked  initiative  and  force  of  character.  He  was 
actively  interested  in  politics,  and  at  times  represented 
the  town  in  the  state  legislature.  His  diary  shows  him  also 
to  have  been  much  given  to  introspection  and  reflection 
—  a  rather  unusual  association  of  natural  qualities.  He 
was  devoted  to  his  home,  and  interested  himself  person- 
ally in  the  training  and  education  of  his  children.  At 
the  time  of  his  death  (at  fifty-seven),  the  family  consisted 
of  my  grandmother  and  six  children  —  two  sons  and  four 
daughters.  My  father  was  the  eldest,  and  at  this  time 
was  twenty-four  years  of  age.  He  had  been  fitted  for  col- 
lege, and  had  actually  entered  Amherst  (in  1833),  but  with- 
drew to  go  into  business  partnership  with  his  father  and 
cousin.  Soon  after  he  married  Sarah  White,  the  elder 
daughter  of  Captain  Joseph  Lester,  of  Griswold.  He  was 
then  twenty-two,  and  she  twenty.  I  do  not  refer  to  this 
early  marriage  as  representing  the  common  age,  though 
my  mother's  only  sister  was  married  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
to  the  young  pastor  of  the  village  church,  the  Reverend 
William  R.  Jewett,  of  whom  I  shall  have  much  to  say. 
Writhin  two  years  after  my  grandfather's  death,  the  affairs 
in  the  home  had  been  so  far  arranged,  that  my  father  was 
able  to  carry  out  his  plan  of  making  his  home  and  business 
headquarters  at  Norwich,  which  thus  became  the  home  of 
my  childhood,  till  the  death  of  my  mother  in  my  eighth 
year.  All  my  memories  of  that  time  and  place  are  full  of 
charm,  and  some  of  them  are  very  clear.  I  recall  distinctly 
my  playmates  —  Charlie  Coit,  George  and  Dick  Ripley, 
Bela  Learned,  Kirk  Leavens,  and  Sam  Merwin.  I  recall 
places  with  equal  distinctness.  Norwich  was  a  town,  in 
many  of  its  local  associations,  to  delight  the  heart  of  a  small 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND  23 

boy  —  the  "landing"  at  the  head  of  the  Thames,  formed 
by  the  junction  of  the  Yantic  and  Shetucket,  where  the 
passengers  of  the  steamboat  train  from  Boston  then  took 
the  boat  for  New  York;  the  "little  plain"  where  I  lived, 
with  Savin's  Hill  in  the  background  carrying  the  jail  of 
fearful  suggestion  just  over  its  summit;  the  "big  plain"  a 
mile  above  at  Norwich  Town  used  as  a  muster  field;  the 
little  shops  at  the  landing  full  of  boy's  treasures;  and  the 
stately  homes  which  even  a  boy's  eyes  could  really  see  — 
all  these  come  back  to  me  under  the  full  charm  of  memory. 
There  was  one  object  above  others  which  stirred  my  boyish 
sentiment  and  imagination  —  the  then  newly  erected  mon- 
ument to  Uncas,  chief  of  the  tribe  of  Mohican  Indians,  the 
faithful  friend  and  ally  of  the  early  settlers,  from  whom 
came  the  site  of  the  city  of  Norwich.  It  was  Samson  Occom 
of  this  tribe,  whose  application  to  enter  Dr.  Wheelock's 
school  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Lebanon  transformed  it 
into  the  Indian  School  which  became  the  precursor  of 
Dartmouth  College.  As  a  boy  I  knew  nothing  of  this  con- 
nection, but  in  these  last  years  I  have  liked  to  relate  this, 
among  some  other  scenes  of  my  boyhood,  to  my  later  work. 
My  birthplace  was  within  easy  distance  of  the  town  of 
Windham,  the  birthplace  of  Eleazar  Wheelock,  the 
Founder  of  Dartmouth,  and  nearer  still  to  Lebanon,  the 
birthplace  of  his  son  and  successor  to  the  presidency  of 
the  college.  As  the  ninth  president  of  Dartmouth,  the  suc- 
cession to  the  Wheelocks  never  seemed  as  remote  and  un- 
real to  me  as  would  doubtless  have  been  the  case  but  for 
these  early  impressions  and  associations. 

The  one  grief  attaching  to  these  memories  is  the  fact 
that  I  have  so  little  remembrance  of  my  mother.  How  much 
would  I  exchange  for  a  satisfying  glimpse  of  her  face !  Her 


24  MY  GENERATION 

portrait  shows  a  somewhat  sad  face,  but  all  who  remember 
her  speak  of  her  great  vivacity  and  good-humor,  her 
alertness  and  courage,  the  freedom  and  fascination  of  her 
manner.  Doubtless  it  is  well  ordered  that  the  lesser  things 
of  childhood  lodge  most  firmly  in  memory,  but  it  may  yet 
be  true  that  the  greater  things  really  find  their  way  into 
the  unconscious  influences  which  affect  the  whole  after  life. 
I  can  see  that  the  two  persons  who  have  had  the  most  effect 
upon  my  imagination  were  my  grandfather,  whom  I  never 
saw,  and  my  mother  of  whom  I  have  so  little  personal 
remembrance. 

The  death  of  my  mother,  followed  by  the  subsequent 
breaking-up  of  the  home  in  Norwich,  brought  about  a  very 
great  change  in  the  circumstances  of  my  life.  My  later  boy- 
hood is  associated  entirely  with  the  town  of  Plymouth, 
New  Hampshire.  I  have  referred  to  the  marriage  of  my 
mother's  sister  to  the  Reverend  William  R.  Jewett,  then 
pastor  of  the  church  in  Griswold.  He  had  now  become  the 
pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  Plymouth.  Thither 
I  was  taken  upon  the  death  of  my  mother,  for  the  time  be- 
ing, but,  as  it  proved  to  be,  for  my  permanent  home.  Upon 
the  second  marriage  of  my  father  some  years  after,  and  his 
removal  to  Sandusky,  Ohio,  and  later  to  Chicago,  I  was  in- 
formally, but  in  a  very  real  sense,  adopted  into  the  home 
of  my  uncle  and  aunt,  and  the  name  of  Jewett  was  incor- 
porated into  my  own  name.  As  might  be  supposed,  the 
journey  from  Norwich  to  Plymouth  was  full  of  exciting 
incidents,  chief  of  which  was  the  celebration  of  the  intro- 
duction of  the  Cochituate  water  into  Boston  the  day  after 
our  arrival  there.  My  father,  like  most  business  men  from 
eastern  Connecticut,  when  a  visitor  in  Boston,  was  a  guest 
at  the  United  States  Hotel.  That  particular  visit  at  this 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND  25 

hotel  filled  my  childish  mind  with  wonder  not  unmixed  with 
awe.  I  do  not  know  what  my  thoughts  would  have  been, 
could  I  have  anticipated  the  fact  that  forty  years  later, 
this  same  small  boy  would  be  tried  for  heresy  within  these 
same  walls,  at  a  court  extemporized  in  the  old  dining-hall 
of  the  hotel  for  the  trial  of  certain  Andover  professors  by 
the  Board  of  Visitors.  The  railroad  journey  ended  at 
Concord,  New  Hampshire,  or  possibly  at  Meredith 
Bridge,  now  Laconia,  the  remainder  of  the  trip  being 
taken  by  stage.  As  the  heavily  loaded  stage  came  within 
a  short  distance  of  Plymouth,  it  "took  fire,"  in  the  ver- 
nacular of  the  road,  —  a  heated  axletree,  that  is,  set  the 
wood  casing  in  a  flame  —  and  so  we  entered  the  town. 
Could  any  entry  have  been  more  to  the  mind  of  a  small 
boy! 

Plymouth  was  a  shire  town  of  Grafton  County,  or  more 
exactly  a  half-shire  town,  dividing  the  distinction  with 
Haverhill.  In  the  distribution  of  social  and  professional 
life  throughout  New  England  at  that  time,  the  proportion 
which  fell  to  the  shire  towns  far  exceeded  their  relative 
rank  in  population.  The  towns  chosen  for  county  seats 
were  usually  of  good  traditions,  supported  by  families 
of  position  and  culture,  and  the  courts  brought  to  them  a 
constant  influx  of  legal  talent.  Jeremiah  Mason  and  Mr. 
Webster  were  frequent  attendants  at  the  court  held  at 
Plymouth.  The  town  also  had  the  social  advantage  of  its 
site  at  one  of  the  gateways  to  the  Franconia  and  White 
Mountains,  detaining  many  travelers  by  the  charm  of  its 
own  immediate  environment.  Ex-Senator  Blair,  also  an 
adopted  son  of  Plymouth,  has  often  said  to  me  that  his 
later  knowledge  of  the  country  had  shown  him  no  town 
more  representative  of  good  breeding  and  good  manners, 


26  MY  GENERATION 

instancing  in  proof  the  characteristics  of  some  of  the  lead- 
ing families  of  the  time. 

Of  course,  it  would  not  take  a  boy  with  an  inherent  love 
of  sport  long  to  find  his  place  among  new  playmates.  But 
those  whom  I  recall  quite  as  well  as  my  mates  were  some  of 
the  men  who  answered  so  well  Phillips  Brooks's  designation 
of  "boys'  men."  Such  was  one  of  our  neighbors,  the  best 
fisherman  in  the  region,  who  was  always  ready  to  tell  us 
just  where  we  could  find  the  biggest  trout,  but  always 
adding,  "It's  no  use;  they'll  just  sniff  at  your  bait  and  say 
they  guess  they'll  wait  for  Sam  Rowe  to  come  round." 
And  they  always  did.  Such,  too,  was  Benjamin  Ward,  a 
little  farther  up  the  hill,  the  old  cabinet-maker,  full  of  the 
lore  of  quaint  histories.  Many  an  hour  have  I  sat  in  his 
shop,  listening  with  wondering  ears  to  his  tales  of  lost 
islands  of  the  sea,  and  buried  cities  of  the  land.  Such  was 
O.  H.  P.  Craig,  —  later  Captain  Craig,  of  the  Sixth  New 
Hampshire  Infantry,  —  the  soul  of  good-humor  and  manly 
sense,  whose  presence  radiated  so  healthy  an  influence 
over  boys,  that  I  do  not  wonder  that  as  young  men  they 
followed  him  in  battle.  And  quite  near  by  my  home, 
where  I  was  sent  on  daily  errands,  and  where  I  was  apt  to 
stay  much  oftener  on  my  own  account,  were  Uncle  and 
Aunt  Noah  Cummings,  both  equally  entitled  to  the  mas- 
culine Noah,  the  undisputed  authorities  on  all  neighbor- 
hood happenings.  Of  course  every  boy  knew  the  stage- 
drivers,  and  was  wise  in  his  discriminations  about  the 
handling  of  the  four-horse  and  the  six-horse  teams.  Even 
when  the  coming  of  the  railroad  two  years  later  trans- 
ferred something  of  this  wisdom  to  the  names  of  the  en- 
gines, and  their  respective  capacities  in  speed  and  power, 
the  stages  held  the  center  of  interest  so  long  as  they  con- 
trolled the  way  to  the  mountains. 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND  27 

My  early  school  days  were  passed  chiefly  in  the  "Acad- 
emy" under  its  changing  fortune  of  teachers;  but  the 
most  unique  experience  was  in  a  private  school  taught  for 
several  sessions  in  the  Methodist  vestry  by  Mr.  Cass,  a 
graduate  of  Wesleyan.  Mr.  Cass  was  very  near-sighted, 
and  had  the  still  greater  infirmity,  for  a  teacher,  of  a  passion 
for  long  and  unusual  words;  but  he  knew  how  to  teach  in 
spite  of  his  infirmities.  No  other  teacher  whom  I  ever 
knew  could  have  called  a  school  to  order  and  actually 
achieved  the  result,  in  these  words,  "Let  the  school  now 
preserve  tranquillity." 

In  a  like  casual  but  very  real  way,  every  boy  took  his  les- 
sons at  first  hand,  and  without  partiality,  in  the  school  of 
Nature.  He  learned  the  true  meaning  of  its  democracy.  It 
was  easy  to  fling  the  saddle  on  his  horse,  and  take  a  morn- 
ing or  evening  ride  to  "Prospect"  for  the  view  from  Winni- 
pesaukee  to  the  mountains;  easy  to  follow  the  streams 
with  his  rod,  easy  to  take  all  winter  sports,  though  at  their 
price.  I  have  never  believed  that  the  city  boy,  developed 
into  the  summer  resident  who  takes  Nature  in  her  gentler 
moods,  ever  quite  knows  the  meaning  of  what  I  have  called 
the  democracy  of  Nature  —  the  rule  of  those  great  and 
masterful  equalities  which  far  surpass  any  democracy  of 
society. 

The  village  boys  of  my  time  were  keen  politicians.  Early 
and  late  they  attended  the  March  meetings  in  the  old  town 
house,  and  were  never  disappointed  if  the  meetings  were 
prolonged  into  the  second  day.  They  knew  the  personal 
bearing  of  every  vote.  They  were  less  surprised  than 
many  of  their  elders  at  the  results  of  some  elections.  I  can 
recall  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  faces  of  some  of  the  older 
Democrats  of  Plymouth  on  the  morning  following  the  first 


28  MY  GENERATION 

election  in  the  "Know-Nothing  Campaign."  A  carica- 
turist could  have  filled  his  notebook  with  telling  sketches. 

Boyhood  in  New  England  before  the  arrival  of  the  mod- 
ern boy  does  not  suffer  by  comparison  with  later  condi- 
tions. The  things  essential  to  a  boy's  life  were  there,  not 
ready  made  for  him  in  modern  abundance  and  often  be- 
wilderment, but  ready  for  him  to  shape  to  his  own  ends. 
He  was  well  supplied  with  the  materials,  if  not  with  the 
finished  product.  Village  life  of  the  larger  type  was  not 
straitened  in  itself,  nor  was  it  inaccessible  to  the  outer 
world.  The  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  came  early  to  the 
mind  of  an  eager  and  curious  boy.  The  poetic  fancy  of  a 
secluded  or  sheltered  life  is  a  moral  delusion.  It  was  no 
easier  then  than  now  for  a  boy  to  endure  the  restraints 
necessary  to  right  conduct.  But  the  family  training  of  that 
time  did  not  stand  primarily  for  repression.  I  should  say 
that  the  prevailing  note  was  freedom.  The  stage  of  over- 
training had  so  far  passed  by  that  there  was  little  sense  of 
unnecessary  restriction.  The  restrictions  put  upon  a  boy 
were  for  the  most  part  such  as  were  shared  by  his  elders, 
like  certain  observances  of  Sunday.  They  belonged  to  the 
customs  and  conventions  of  social  and  religious  life.  The 
forms  of  religion  were  a  part  of  the  family  routine,  but  its 
realities  were  no  less  a  pervasive  influence. 

The  education  of  the  home  was  concerned  with  more  than 
morals  and  religion.  The  home  was  the  medium  through 
which  a  great  many  educational  influences  reached  the 
mind  of  a  boy.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  there  was  a 
dearth  of  interesting  books.  My  uncle's  library  was  that  of 
a  minister,  but  I  found  there  just  the  kind  of  reading  I 
wanted.  "Robinson  Crusoe,"  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
the  "Arabian  Nights,"  all  well  illustrated,  made  the  first 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         29 

appeal  to  the  imagination.  Then  Scott's  "Tales  of  a  Grand- 
father" and  the  "  Waverley  Novels,"  and  later  Plutarch, 
and  the  more  stirring  biographies  and  histories  and  books 
of  travel.  Guests,  no  less  than  books,  kept  the  home  open  to 
the  outside  life.  They  made  their  constant  impression,  and 
often  with  the  most  quickening  effect.  And  above  all,  the 
personal  element  entered  into  the  daily  education.  My 
uncle,  to  whom  I  go  back  with  so  much  interest  as  well  as 
affection,  was  not  what  I  have  called  "a  boy's  man."  He 
really  did  not  know  how  to  get  into  a  boy's  life,  but  he 
knew  what  was  so  much  better,  how  to  let  a  boy  into  his 
own  life  —  and  how  roomy  and  hospitable  it  was !  There 
were  so  many  ways  in  which  all  unconsciously  to  himself 
he  was  a  companion  or  a  stimulating  presence.  He  was 
an  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  mountains,  knowing  them  all 
within  a  wide  range  by  name,  and  at  home  among  them 
all.  He  was  a  charming  conversationalist  among  his  guests, 
and  a  genuine  man  among  men  at  large,  making  it  a  pleas- 
ure to  be  by  his  side  in  the  home  or  on  the  road.  And  he 
knew  books  that  other  people  would  have  liked  to  know, 
and  how  to  make  them  tell  their  own  story  through  his 
unconscious  enthusiasm,  and  his  equally  unconscious  but 
very  real  strain  of  hero-worship.  I  am  afraid  that  he  let 
some  very  doubtful  historical  characters  into  company 
with  the  saints.  He  shared  in  the  fascination  which  Byron 
cast  over  Lyman  Beecher  and  some  other  ministers  of  the 
time,  and  never  altogether  forgave  England  for  the  ban- 
ishment of  Napoleon  to  St.  Helena.  His  sense  of  humor 
was  keen,  but  there  was  a  delightful  contradiction  about 
it.  He  would  shake  his  sides  over  Sidney  Smith,  but  the 
reading  of  "Pickwick"  could  draw  from  him  only  a  sym- 
pathetic smile. 


30  MY  GENERATION 

As  I  recall  my  own  experiences  in  a  Puritan  home,  and 
those  of  my  mates,  I  have  little  sympathy  with  the  men  of 
my  generation  who  attribute  any  subsequent  license  on 
their  part  in  morals  and  religion  to  the  strictness  of  their 
early  training.  The  home  life  of  that  period  as  I  saw  it  had 
found  the  normal  balance  between  authority  and  indul- 
gence. There  were  exceptions,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  a  good  many  of  the  uncomfortable  experiences  which 
linger  in  the  minds  of  some  men  should  be  charged  to  the 
narrowness  or  temper  or  obstinacy  of  individual  parents 
rather  than  to  Puritanism.  And  due  account  should  be  kept 
as  we  grow  older  with  the  results  of  our  own  youthful  mis- 
chiefs and  follies.  Whatever  the  Puritan  home  may  have 
been  aforetime  I  know  only  by  report,  but  when  it  be- 
came the  home  for  my  generation,  it  stood  for  a  natural, 
intelligent,  and  reasonably  free  approach  to  the  world. 

SCHOOL  AND  COLLEGE 

In  the  decade  which  preceded  the  Civil  War,  as  in  the 
previous  decades  of  the  century,  the  college  was  the  domi- 
nant factor  in  the  educational  life  of  the  country.  It  was 
the  higher  education.  The  older  colleges  bearing  at  the  time 
the  title  of  universities  were  universities  only  in  name, 
except  through  a  loose  association  in  some  instances  of  one 
or  two  professional  schools.  The  university  idea,  as  I  have 
elsewhere  noted,  did  not  really  enter  the  educational  sys- 
tem till  the  decade  following  the  war. 

The  academy  stood  in  like  relation  to  secondary  educa- 
tion. It  was  until  late  in  the  century  the  secondary  school 
of  the  country.  Dr.  Harris,  former  United  States  Com- 
missioner of  Education,  is  authority  for  the  statement 
that  there  were  about  forty  public  high  schools  in  1860. 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         31 

Among  these  were  a  few  notable  ones,  chiefly  in  New  Eng- 
land, like  the  Boston  Latin.  But  in  1850,  there  were  over 
6000  academies,  with  an  enrollment  of  263,000  pupils,  and 
an  annual  income  (including  tuition)  of  $5,800,000.  The 
wide  distribution  of  these  academies  created  a  great  many- 
small  intellectual  centers.  They  gave,  until  the  public 
school  system  had  produced  the  full  quota  of  high  schools, 
a  certain  educational  advantage  to  the  country  towns 
above  the  cities.  The  catalogue  of  any  New  England  col- 
lege of  the  period  will  show  a  large  percentage  of  stu- 
dents from  country  schools.  Account,  however,  must  be 
taken  of  students  from  the  cities  in  attendance  at  these 
schools. 

There  was  an  almost  absolute  uniformity  among  the 
older  colleges  of  the  period,  resulting  in  a  corresponding 
equality  in  numbers  and  position.  They  all  had  the  same 
educational  aim,  the  disciplinary  and  cultural  in  distinc- 
tion from  the  vocational.  There  had  been  a  time  when  they 
might  have  been  said  to  be  highly  vocational,  viewed  as 
training  schools  for  the  ministry,  but  that  time  was  long 
past,  and  the  newer  vocations  had  not  established  their 
claims  upon  the  colleges.  I  doubt  if  the  ministry  ever 
secured  such  concessions  as  have  now  been  granted,  for 
example,  to  medicine,  by  the  allowance  in  many  colleges  of 
two  years  of  the  course  to  be  reckoned  for  the  degrees  both 
of  A.B.  and  M.D.  I  think  that  Senator  Hoar  in  his  remi- 
niscences of  life  at  Harvard  (1842-46)  1  underestimates 

1  "  I  do  not  think  Harvard  College  had  changed  very  much  when  I  entered 
it  on  my  sixteenth  birthday  in  the  year  1842,  either  in  manners,  character  of 
students  or  teachers,  or  the  course  of  instruction,  for  nearly  a  century.  There 
were  some  elementary  lectures  and  recitations  in  astronomy  and  mechanics. 
There  was  a  short  course  of  lectures  on  chemistry,  accompanied  by  exhibiting 
a  few  experiments.  But  the  students  had  no  opportunity  for  laboratory  work. 
There  was  a  delightful  course  of  instruction  from  Dr.  Walker  in  ethics  and  meta- 


32  MY  GENERATION 

somewhat  the  range  of  study  then  pursued  in  the  colleges, 
but  the  discipline  was  strictly  intensive.  Even  some  years 
later,  it  did  not  reach  beyond  the  ancient  languages, 
mathematics  and  physics,  with  excursions  into  astronomy, 
logic  and  rhetoric,  and  philosophy  and  political  science. 
"Electives"  in  the  modern  languages  and  experimental 
lectures  in  chemistry  and  geology  hardly  came  within  the 
scope  of  the  college  discipline. 

The  most  remarkable  omissions  from  the  curriculum 
were  of  modern  history  and  modern  literature;  but  the 
explanation  is  to  be  found  in  the  provision  made  for  private 
reading  in  both  departments.  College  libraries  of  that  time 
were  primarily  reading  libraries.  They  were  known  as  so- 
ciety libraries  and  were  largely  maintained  and  managed  by 
students.  These  libraries  have  long  since  been  incorporated 
into  the  general  college  library  of  any  given  institution, 
but  at  the  time  of  their  active  existence  they  were  a  great 
stimulus  to  reading.  Students  drew  books  from  them  up  to 
the  limit  of  their  allowance,  especially  for  use  in  the  long 
winter  vacation.  I  recall  two  courses  in  History  which  I 
carried  on  by  myself  in  two  successive  years  —  one  on  the 
English  Commonwealth,  and  one  on  Spanish  conquests  in 
America.  It  seems  like  a  singular  inversion  in  disciplinary 
methods  that  history  and  English  literature  are  now  made 
the  subjects  of  as  intensive  study  as  any  subjects  in  the 
curriculum. 

The  curriculum  was  a  fixed  quantity  in  all  the  colleges. 
This  made  the  ready  interchange  of  students  entirely  prac- 
ticable; and  as  there  were  fewer  ties  binding  a  student  to  a 

physics.  .  .  .  There  was  also  some  instruction  in  modern  languages,  —  German, 
French,  and  Italian,  —  all  of  very  slight  value.  But  the  substance  of  the  instruc- 
tion consisted  in  learning  to  translate  rather  easy  Latin  and  Greek,  writing  Latin, 
and  courses  in  algebra  and  geometry  not  very  far  advanced." 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND  33 

particular  college,  the  number  of  transfers  was  relatively 
greater  then  than  now.  But  the  chief  effect  of  the  fixed  cur- 
riculum was  to  be  seen  within  each  college.  It  introduced 
and  fostered  competition  in  scholarship.  It  did  not  for  this 
reason  make  scholars,  but  it  converted  a  good  many  rather 
indifferent  scholars  into  competitors.  As  all  the  members  of 
a  class  were  studying  the  same  subjects  at  the  same  time, 
results  could  be  compared  according  to  the  same  standards. 
Hence  a  very  general,  and  in  some  cases,  a  sensitive,  inter- 
est in  "marks."  And  this  interest  was  kept  alive  by  the 
fact  that  the  daily  recitation  was  chiefly  oral,  and  before 
the  whole  class  if,  as  was  usually  the  case,  a  class  did  not 
number  over  sixty  or  eighty.  There  were  limits  to  the  de- 
gree of  ignorance  or  stupidity  which  one  liked  to  display 
before  his  classmates.  The  occasional  sarcasm  of  a  profes- 
sor was  of  little  account  beside  the  instant  and  unanimous 
and  hearty  tributes  of  one's  fellows  to  his  mental  lapses. 

A  common  characteristic  of  the  colleges  was  the  pre- 
dominance of  the  personal  element  in  teaching.  Not  only 
was  there  little  of  an  intermediate  character  in  the  way  of 
equipment,  but  little  account  was  made  of  the  science  or 
art  of  teaching.  There  was  little  of  pedagogical  training  for 
a  professorship.  Not  all  professors  had  even  served  an  ap- 
prenticeship by  tutoring.  The  faculties  were  almost  en- 
tirely made  up  of  full  professors.  A  freshman  had  the  best 
a  college  had  to  offer,  equally  with  a  senior.  There  was  thus 
a  certain  equality  of  instruction  in  each  college  and  in  all 
the  colleges.  Every  college  faculty  had  its  well-recognized 
scholars  and  influential  teachers.  The  conspicuous  names 
which  at  once  come  to  mind  are  distributed  without  pre- 
eminence on  the  part  of  one  or  two  colleges. 

As  a  result  of  this  uniformity  among  the  older  colleges, 


34  MY  GENERATION 

there  was  a  remarkable  numerical  equality.  I  had  occasion 
to  make  comparison,  at  this  point,  among  four  of  the  older 
colleges  during  the  period  of  seventy  years  between  the 
close  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  the  opening  of  the 
Civil  War,  with  this  result.  I  quote  the  comparison  of  two 
decades  at  the  beginning,  and  two  at  the  close  of  the  period. 

Number  of  Graduates  by  Decades 

1790-1800  1800-1810  18)0-1850  1850-1860 

Harvard 394                      440                      632  870 

Yale 295                      518                      926  1009 

Princeton 240                      328                      649  677 

Dartmouth 362                      337                      591  639 

A  further  result  of  the  general  uniformity  among  the 
colleges  was  the  tendency  to  produce  something  of  an  edu- 
cational aristocracy  among  college  graduates.  I  use  the 
term  "educational"  rather  than  "intellectual,"  because 
the  colleges  never  included  or  developed  the  artistic  qual- 
ity; and  I  use  this  term  rather  than  the  term  "social, "  be- 
cause college  life  was  not  then  tributary  in  any  direct  way 
to  social  distinction.  The  college  man  stood,  however,  in 
a  distinct  relation  to  the  public.  Much  was  expected  of 
him.  If  he  returned  to  his  native  town  to  "settle  down"  he 
met  with  a  certain  contempt.  It  was  expected  of  him  that 
he  would  make  his  way  into  the  larger  world.  I  think  that 
his  own  consciousness  accorded  with  this  expectation. 
Something  of  the  traditional  spirit  of  the  English  colleges 
in  their  relation  to  public  duty  came  over  by  inheritance 
into  the  earlier  college  training  in  this  country,  and  made 
itself  felt  in  a  like  "call  to  account  very  strictly  to  the 
world  for  such  talent  or  power  as  a  man  may  have." 

When  I  entered  Dartmouth  in  1857,  I  was  much  better 
prepared  to  pursue  the  course  of  study  than  to  understand 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         35 

this  moral  significance  of  a  college  training.  Largely,  I  sup- 
pose, by  my  uncle's  choice,  but  also  because  of  the  good 
fortune  of  an  unusual  Latin  instructor  in  the  local  academy, 
I  began  Latin  at  an  early  age,  so  early  that  I  never  had 
occasion  to  study  English  grammar.  Preparatory  Greek  I 
studied  for  a  much  shorter  time,  but  under  thoroughly  com- 
petent teachers,  at  Kimball  Union  Academy,  the  most  pop- 
ular fitting  school  for  Dartmouth  at  that  day.  Mathema- 
tics received  scant  measure  among  the  three  requisites  for 
college  entrance,  reduced  still  further  in  my  case  by  per- 
sonal restriction.  I  recall  very  clearly  my  examination  for 
college.  It  was  made  up  of  a  succession  of  individual,  oral 
interviews,  conducted  by  the  professors  in  charge,  in  their 
private  studies.  A  certain  fluency  in  reading  from  one  or 
two  of  the  prescribed  Latin  authors  brought  from  Professor 
Sanborn,  who  was  little  inclined  to  waste  any  unnecessary 
time  in  so  tedious  a  business,  the  abrupt  but  pleasing  re- 
mark —  "Well,  there  is  no  use  in  eating  a  joint  of  mutton 
to  tell  whether  it's  tainted  or  not."  The  examination  by 
Professor  Putnam  in  Greek  was  much  more  critical,  but 
confined  chiefly  to  the  grammar,  in  which  I  had  been  well 
drilled.  The  examination  in  mathematics  brought  me  to  the 
study  of  Professor  Ira  Young  —  father  of  the  celebrated 
astronomer  —  just  before  the  dinner  hour.  I  had  hardly 
been  seated  and  put  at  work  upon  a  problem,  before  the 
dining-room  door  opened  and  dinner  announced  itself. 
After  a  little,  the  professor  asked  me  how  long  it  would  take 
me  to  finish  my  work.  I  replied  (truthfully)  that  I  could  n't 
tell.  He  quickly  made  his  own  calculation,  asked  me  a  few 
general  questions,  and  closed  the  interview.  The  alterna- 
tive was  evidently  a  cold  —  a  very  cold  —  dinner. 
In  the  college  curriculum  of  the  first  two  years  there  was 


36  MY  GENERATION 

little  change  from  the  studies  of  the  preparatory  school. 
The  change  was  altogether  in  the  surroundings,  in  out- 
ward conditions,  in  atmosphere,  in  the  tone  and  spirit  of 
the  common  life.  It  was  a  change  into  a  world  of  freedom, 
of  individual  responsibility,  of  constant  stimulus.  As  I 
have  said,  I  was  not  prepared  for  this  larger  and  more 
stimulating  life.  The  restrictive  discipline  of  the  prepara- 
tory school,  doubtless  necessary,  especially  in  a  coeduca- 
tional institution,  had  repressed  certain  natural  ambitions, 
and  developed  in  their  place  a  good  many  wayward  tend- 
encies. I  entered  college  in  a  somewhat  restive  and  asser- 
tive mood,  disposed  to  use  the  new  freedom  for  whatever 
college  life  had  to  offer.  But  I  miscalculated  its  moral  ef- 
fect. The  new  freedom  wrought  its  own  transformation.  It 
effected  with  surprising  rapidity  a  change  of  disposition 
and  temper,  and  thus  gave  to  the  various  objects  of  college 
pursuit  their  chance  according  to  their  value.  I  found  that 
the  suddenly  acquired  sense  of  responsibility  produced  a 
new  and  unexpected  zest  for  the  essential  business  of  the 
college,  and  gradually  opened  a  true  perspective  into  the 
essential  business  of  the  after  life.  Without  hesitation,  I 
date  the  beginning  of  any  really  responsible  purpose  or 
ambition  from  my  entrance  upon  college,  and  ascribe  the 
change  to  the  complete  readjustment  of  desires  and  pur- 
poses which  then  took  place. 

This  moral  effect  of  the  college  atmosphere  and  environ- 
ment was  steadily  supported  by  the  college  routine.  The 
college  acted  constantly  through  its  totality.  Whatever  it 
had  to  offer  intellectually  or  morally,  it  brought  to  bear  in 
its  unity  upon  every  student.  The  modern  college  indi- 
vidualizes its  subject-matter  and  in  degree,  its  discipline. 
The  elective  system  has  its  own  moral  effect.  It  naturally 


«  "8 


2  | 


W     o 

o 


5 


S3  « 

fc-<  0> 

P  =3 

o  a 

<!  a 

a  2 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         37 

tends  to  the  development  of  responsibility.  It  also  tends 
to  much  immature  criticism,  to  much  questioning  of  the 
value  of  any  course  once  chosen,  which  does  not  produce 
immediate  results.  There  was  little  questioning  of  the  value 
of  individual  parts  of  the  earlier  curriculum.  The  whole 
curriculum  was  accepted  in  its  entirety,  and  because  of  its 
entirety.  It  was  the  whole  that  counted  as  a  whole,  not  as 
the  sum  of  individual  parts,  the  end  in  view  being  mental 
enlargement  more  than  mental  furnishing.  Modern  educa- 
tion assumes  that  mental  enlargement  is  best  effected 
through  careful  regard  to  the  mental  furnishing,  and  that 
the  element  of  choice  is  therefore  the  main  factor  in  mental 
discipline.  The  contention  is  so  far  true,  that  we  are  right 
in  committing  the  modern  college,  under  proper  safe- 
guards, to  the  fortune  of  the  elective  system,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  overlook  or  minimize  the  effect  which  was 
produced  through  the  earlier  college  by  concentrating 
attention  upon  the  end,  rather  than  upon  the  divergent 
means  for  reaching  it.  As  John  Morley  has  remarked  in 
a  recent  note  of  warning  on  the  tendencies  of  modern 
education  —  "The  business  and  the  effect,  the  splendid 
effect,  of  universities  is  not  merely  to  spread  the  reading 
of  books,  not  merely  to  give  knowledge,  but  to  bring 
students  to  form  habits  of  mind." 

A  further  misconception  of  the  effect  of  the  earlier  col- 
lege training  lies  in  its  assumed  impracticability.  It  is  true 
that  the  classicist  has  fallen  out  of  the  race  for  practicality, 
just  as  the  scientist  for  a  time  yielded  place  to  the  eco- 
nomist. The  goal  of  practicality  is  a  "flying  goal."  In  its 
own  time,  the  classical  college  was  a  broad  and  direct  means 
to  what  were  at  the  time  practical  ends.  Before  the  educa- 
tional approach  through  the  sciences,  the  study  of  ancient 


38  MY  GENERATION 

history  was  the  educational  gateway  into  the  living  world. 
It  opened  into  the  broad  area  covered  by  the  operations 
of  Church  and  State.  The  historical  method  preceded  for 
practical  uses  the  scientific  method.  History  as  then  under- 
stood was  the  science  of  human  affairs.  Classical  study 
was  the  study  of  history  far  more  than  the  study  of 
language.  Where  one  student  learned  to  write  good  Latin, 
or  to  form  his  English  style  on  classical  models,  ten  were 
incited  by  their  studies  to  read  history,  to  take  interest  in 
the  movement  of  events,  to  study  men.  The  classical  college 
trained  men  not  away  from  their  kind,  but  for  those  serv- 
ices and  conflicts  which  were  most  distinctively  human. 

As  I  compare  my  recollection  of  the  earlier  college  with 
my  more  intimate  understanding  of  the  workings  of  the 
modern  college,  I  note  as  the  essential  distinction  that  the 
college  of  the  earlier  type  was  organized  around  the  idea 
of  unity:  the  modern  college  is  organized  around  the  idea 
of  intensiveness.  The  old-time  faculty  was  a  group  of 
scholars  of  similar  training,  and  pervaded  by  a  common 
educational  purpose.  Each  professor  was  usually  a  man  of 
marked  individuality,  but  his  individuality  was  in  and  of 
himself,  not  a  reflection  in  any  considerable  degree  of  his 
training.  A  modern  faculty  is  a  body  of  specialists,  or,  to 
use  the  still  more  modern  term,  of  experts.  In  like  manner, 
the  old-time  curriculum  was  constructed  with  a  view  to 
the  interrelation  of  its  parts,  and  their  mutual  relation  to 
the  whole  scheme.  The  modern  curriculum  is  constructed 
with  a  view  to  the  largest  possible  development  of  each 
separate  subject,  a  purpose  made  practicable  through  the 
elective  system.  The  effect  of  this  set  of  the  instructor  and 
of  the  curriculum  toward  intensiveness,  is  to  carry  the 
individual  student,  whom  it  reaches,  farther  on  his  way  to 


THE  PERSONAL  BACKGROUND         39 

a  specific  goal.  But  under  this  dominating  influence  the 
modern  college  parts  company  more  easily  with  the  aver- 
age student.  Scholarship  below  the  line  of  advanced  work 
is  on  the  whole  more  desultory  and  less  cumulative.1 

This  general  tendency  or  drift  of  the  college  in  its  educa- 
tional policy  has  gone  over  into  what  is  termed  "college 
life."  Intensity  not  unity  is  the  aim  of  college  activities. 
The  distinctive  college  athlete  in  any  department  is  a 
specialist.  He  is  as  much  disconnected  from  his  fellows  as 
is  the  specialized  scholar.  I  note  this  fact,  not  to  decry 
specialization  in  scholarship,  but  to  show  that  the  principle, 
when  put  at  work  seriously  in  the  higher  ranges  of  college 
effort,  will  find  its  way  into  all  departments  of  college  activ- 
ity. It  is  very  difficult  to  urge  the  principle  with  the  same 
men  in  certain  directions,  and  to  curb  it  in  other  directions. 
The  working-out  of  the  principle  creates  a  college  habit  of 
mind  and  establishes  its  own  standards  of  excellence. 

In  the  midst  of  the  changes  in  the  general  influence  of  a 
college  upon  its  students  through  changes  in  educational 
policy  one  element  in  college  life  remains  constant  —  the 
element  of  comradeship.  The  public  is  often  surprised  at 
the  testimony  of  public  men  of  high  intellectual  character 

1  The  more  recent  tendencies  in  academic  education,  the  result  in  part  of  the 
war,  have  been  interpreted  by  some  as  a  return  to  the  college  of  the  earlier  type. 
This  is  a  mistaken  interpretation.  Such  a  return  is  impossible;  it  would  be  un- 
desirable. That  "totality"  of  impression,  to  which  I  have  referred  as  the  re- 
sultant of  the  earlier  college,  belonged  not  only  to  the  small  college,  but  to  the 
day  of  the  small  college.  What  is  now  taking  place  is  an  advance  in  constructive 
unity,  made  necessary  by  the  amount  of  subject-matter  crowding  the  college 
curriculum,  and  also  by  the  public  demand  upon  the  college  graduate  for  a 
more  responsible  sense  of  the  advantage  of  his  training.  This  is  the  meaning,  as 
I  interpret  the  process  now  going  on,  of  the  attempt  to  construct  a  more  highly 
organized  and  more  closely  interrelated  curriculum;  of  the  introduction  of  cer- 
tain courses  in  the  interest  of  citizenship  or  of  the  public  welfare,  to  be  taken 
in  common  by  all  students;  and  in  the  proposed  requirement  of  a  comprehensive 
6nal  examination  to  guarantee  some  understanding  on  the  part  of  the  college 
graduate  of  the  significance  of  the  college  course  as  a  whole. 


40  MY  GENERATION 

as  to  the  value  of  their  college  associations.  Some  under  the 
influence  of  sentiment  put  this  value  above  that  of  their 
college  discipline.  The  value  of  these,  however,  when  due  al- 
lowance is  made  for  sentiment,  is  very  great.  Comradeship 
is  more  than  ordinary  companionship.  It  represents  one's 
holdings  in  the  stock  of  common  ideas  and  purposes.  It 
represents  that  sense  of  security  and  trust  which  is  born 
out  of  well-tried  friendship.  It  represents  that  spirit  which 
declares  itself  in  the  common  response  to  a  call  to  adven- 
ture, or  to  a  summons  to  duty.  Whether  so  recognized  or 
not,  it  is  that  underlying  and  abiding  element  in  the  college 
inheritance,  which  makes  our  colleges  the  recruiting  ground 
for  great  causes.  Richard  Hovey  has  not  missed  the  mark 
in  his  interpretation  of  college  life  in  its  deeper  intimacies, 
and  its  irresistible  incentives,  as  a  "comradeship";  and 
this  feature  seems  to  be  permanent  and  self-perpetuating. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ENVIRONMENT  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 
A  tablet  in  Webster  Hall  at  Dartmouth,  similar  to  many 
in  college  halls  throughout  the  country,  bears  this  in- 
scription : 

UPON  THIS  TABLET  ARE  INSCRIBED  THE  NAMES  OF 
THE  SONS  OF  DARTMOUTH  WHO  GAVE  THEIR  LIVES 
IN  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  PRESERVATION  OF  THE  UNION 
TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED  IN  RECOGNITION  OF  THEIR 
PERSONAL  DEVOTION  TO  DUTY  THE  NAMES  OF  THOSE 
WHO  FELL  IN  THE  CONFEDERATE  SERVICE. 

Then  follow  in  the  order  of  classes  the  names  of  those  who 
fell  in  battle  —  a  few  from  earlier  classes,  but  by  far  the 
greater  number  from  the  classes  graduated  just  before  or 
during  the  progress  of  the  war.  As  was  natural,  the  burden 
of  the  war  in  its  claims  for  active  service  rested  upon  the 
incoming  generation.  An  accredited  press  correspondent 
has  recently  stated  that  "the  average  age  of  all  who 
fought  in  the  civil  war  was  somewhat  under  twenty-two 
years."  The  glory  of  the  conflict  was  no  more  theirs  than 
of  their  elder  comrades,  but  the  pathos  of  it  was  theirs. 
They  knew  life  only  in  its  beginnings  and  at  the  end. 

"Dawn  was  theirs, 
And  sunset." 

They  had  no  intervening  day. 

No  one  can  recall  his  early  associates,  whose  heroism 
brought  them  to  untimely  death,  without  a  feeling  akin  to 
reverence.  Neither  can  one  mingle  with  his  early  associates 
who  survived  the  war,  but  with  whom  he  had  no  equal 


42  MY  GENERATION 

share  in  the  great  comradeship,  without  the  constant  re- 
minder, however  unconscious  they  may  be  of  the  differ- 
ence, of  their  superior  fortune.  It  has  been  a  lifelong  regret 
to  me  that  I  was  precluded  by  a  succession  of  prohibitive 
conditions,  beginning  with  the  disability  resulting  from  a 
prolonged  attack  of  typhoid  fever,1  from  any  active  part 
in  the  war  till  near  its  close,  and  then  only  in  a  sub- 
sidiary way.  But  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  because 
of  this  experience  I  was  made  more  sensitively  aware  of 
some  of  those  phases  of  the  ordeal  of  war,  other  than 
that  of  battle,  through  which  a  generation  passes  which 
is  subjected  to  the  searching  realities  of  war.  For  the 
ordeal  is  varied  and  inclusive.  It  arrests  the  daily  life  at 
every  turn,  it  changes  the  order  and  movement  of  famil- 
iar events,  it  creates  communities  of  suffering  and  sacri- 
fice, and  above  all  it  tests  every  man's  spirit  in  his 
relation  to  his  country  and  to  the  cause  which  may  be 
at  stake. 

Unlike  the  present  war,  the  Civil  War  was  not  unfore- 
seen or  even  unannounced.  For  years  the  country  had  been 
living  under  the  shadow  of  it.  The  title  of  a  widely  read 
book  was  "The  Impending  Crisis."  The  Civil  War  was  in 
no  sense  "unbelievable,"  "unthinkable,"  —  the  terms  in 
which  we  denied  to  ourselves  the  possibility  of  the  present 

1  This  sickness  made  a  peculiar  and  lasting  impression  on  me.  It  was  so  severe 
and  so  prolonged  that  it  seemed  to  me  like  a  withdrawal  from  the  physical  world. 
1  was  too  weak  for  most  of  the  time  to  take  any  conscious  part  in  the  life  of  the 
sick-room  or  to  help  myself.  The  sense  of  utter  helplessness  was  the  one  feeling 
by  day  and  night.  1  do  not  recall  that  I  had  any  fear  of  dying,  or  thought  much 
about  death.  But  the  world  seemed  to  be  very  remote.  1  was  quite  detached  from 
it.  All  this  was  so  real  that  when  I  came  back  to  the  life  about  me,  it  seemed  like 
the  entry  into  a  new  world.  Nature  had  changed,  and  friends.  1  looked  upon  peo- 
ple with  different  eyes.  They  seemed  more  real,  nearer,  more  intimate.  As  I  look 
back  upon  the  mental  and  moral  effect  of  this  sickness,  it  seems  like  a  new  inter- 
pretation of  human  nature,  a  kind  of  educational  course  in  the  real  humanities. 


ENVIRONMENT  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR    43 

war.  It  was  rather  seen  to  be  inevitable,  and  yet  its  ap- 
proach was  none  the  less  unrealized  on  the  part  of  the 
North,  and  when  it  came  it  found  the  Government  totally 
unprepared.  Secretary  Seward's  prediction  of  a  ninety 
days'  war  may  have  been  made  partly  for  political  effect, 
but  it  represented  an  influential  body  of  opinion  in  Gov- 
ernment circles,  apart  from  Mr.  Lincoln,  whose  sense  of 
the  meaning  of  the  struggle  was  more  truly  prophetic. 

The  unreadiness  of  the  nation  naturally  created  a  wide- 
spread feeling  of  impatience.  An  unmilitary  people,  fired 
with  a  great  moral  purpose,  could  not  understand  the  de- 
laying requirements  of  military  organization.  The  cry  of 
"On  to  Richmond"  was  taken  up  long  before  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  was  ready  for  the  campaign,  and  when  the 
first  campaign  ended  disastrously,  not  altogether  due, 
however,  to  a  forced  initiative,  the  popular  impatience  was 
increased  rather  than  diminished.  Measured  by  the  time 
required  for  the  creation  of  a  modern  army  out  of  civilians, 
the  organization  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  effected 
with  reasonable  speed.  McClellan  was  a  superb  organizer, 
in  this  regard  the  Kitchener  of  the  Civil  War.  In  spite  of 
his  failure  before  Richmond,  the  nation  was  indebted  to 
him  for  the  army  which  under  more  determined  leadership 
finally  entered  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  trial  to  which  the  North  was  sub- 
jected in  the  early  stages  of  the  war  was  that  of  disappoint- 
ment in  its  commanding  generals.  This  was  in  marked 
contrast  with  the  steady  confidence  of  the  South  in  the 
generalship  of  Lee.  The  rapid  succession  of  commanders  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  disheartening.  After  Mc- 
Clellan—  Pope,  McClellan  again  (battle  of  Antietam), 
Burnside,  Hooker,  and  Meade  —  all  within  a  year.  The 


44  MY  GENERATION 

loss  at  this  time  to  the  South  of  Albert  Sidney  Johnston 
and  "Stonewall"  Jackson  was  serious,  but  it  was  different 
in  its  moral  effect.  It  was  not  till  the  turn  of  the  tide  at 
Gettysburg,  with  the  coincident  surrender  of  Vicksburg, 
that  the  heart  of  the  North  became  more  assured.  The 
second  stage  of  the  war  under  Grant  and  Sherman  had  its 
own  vicissitudes,  but  no  like  disheartening  uncertainties. 
It  became  what  would  now  be  called  a  war  of  attrition. 

However,  before  the  change  in  the  military  conduct  of 
the  war  took  place  the  political  situation  had  become  seri- 
ous, and  continued  to  be  till  the  end.  The  Emancipation 
Proclamation,  issued  after  the  battle  of  Antietam,  accen- 
tuated the  difference  between  the  political  parties  of  the 
country.  To  those  who  followed  the  lead  of  Vallandig- 
ham  and  like  obstructionists,  "war  for  the  Union  was 
abandoned;  war  for  the  negro  openly  begun."  In  the  judg- 
ment of  Mr.  Lincoln,  emancipation  had  become  a  mili- 
tary necessity,  indispensable  to  the  preservation  of  the 
Union.  To  the  extreme  radical,  the  preservation  of  the 
Union  was  the  subordinate  issue  when  compared  with  the 
abolition  of  slavery.  There  was  likewise  a  division  of  sen- 
timent among  the  supporters  of  the  Administration  —  Re- 
publicans and  War  Democrats  —  regarding  the  measures 
to  be  taken  for  the  restraint  or  suppression  of  compromis- 
ers and  obstructionists.  The  margin  of  freedom,  whether 
of  speech  or  of  the  press,  is  necessarily  narrow  in  times 
of  national  peril.  In  certain  cases,  the  circumstance  may 
make  that  dangerous  or  even  treasonable  which  was  not 
such  in  the  intention.  The  Government  too,  sensitive  to 
its  responsibilities,  may  become  nervous  and  overwrought 
under  continued  strain.  The  days  which  followed  the  dis- 
astrous defeats  at  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville 


ENVIRONMENT  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR    45 

were  days  of  peculiar  trial.  It  was  not  strange  that  drastic 
measures  were  adopted  to  repress  compromising  and  dis- 
turbing activities.  At  this  distance,  the  arrest  and  subse- 
quent banishment  of  Vallandigham,  and  the  suspension  of 
the  "  Chicago  Times,"  seem  to  have  been  unwise  if  not 
unnecessary,  but  the  aggravation  was  very  great. 

I  was  at  this  time  in  Columbus,  Ohio,  and  though  en- 
gaged in  teaching,  was  otherwise  brought  in  various  ways 
into  direct  contact  with  the  current  movements  in  the 
political  field.  Columbus  itself  was  on  the  dividing  line  be- 
tween the  earlier  reservations,  set  apart  especially  for  emi- 
grants from  Connecticut  and  Virginia,  known  as  the  West- 
ern Reserve,  and  that  of  the  Little  Miami.  My  home  was 
for  the  time  in  the  family  of  Judge  Miller,  of  the  Probate 
Court,  a  Virginian  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  "a  gen- 
tleman of  the  old  school"  in  manners  and  dress,  even  to 
the  wearing  of  a  queue.  His  sympathies  were  naturally 
somewhat  divided,  but  his  loyalty  was  unimpeachable. 
His  only  surviving  son,  a  captain  in  the  Union  army,  fell  at 
Murfreesboro.  Many  of  the  lawyers  of  the  city  were  fre- 
quent callers  at  his  home,  some  of  whom  were  taking  an 
active  part  in  political  affairs.  As  one  born  with  the  New 
England  traditions,  I  listened  eagerly  to  their  conversation. 
The  main  subject  was  the  arrest  of  various  persons  on  the 
charge  of  "giving  aid  and  comfort  to  rebels."  Columbus 
was  one  of  the  centers  of  the  Vallandigham  Democracy, 
but  the  frequency  and  extent  of  the  arrests  brought  many 
War  Democrats  and  some  Republicans  into  sympathy 
with  this  branch  of  the  party.  Whenever  a  free  government 
begins  to  take  repressive  measures  for  the  national  safety, 
it  is  comparatively  easy  to  organize  a  party  under  the  cry 
of  liberty  and  personal  rights.  A  great  many  persons  are 


46  MY  GENERATION 

sure  to  lose  their  sense  of  proportion  in  such  a  crisis.  They 
would  rather  see  the  larger  cause  of  liberty  endangered 
if  not  defeated,  than  to  see  any  infringement  of  personal 
rights  and  liberties.  The  revolt  against  the  Government  on 
the  part  of  many  loyal  citizens  in  Ohio  was  so  great  that 
the  result  of  the  impending  State  election  was  for  long 
time  in  doubt.  It  was  a  very  great,  but  most  unexpected 
relief  when  the  election  of  Governor  Brough  by  a  majority 
of  over  100,000,  placed  the  State  firmly  in  support  of  the 
Administration. 

The  issue  of  personal  rights  versus  the  national  safety 
was  soon  followed  by  another  issue  still  more  demoralizing, 
namely,  that  of  a  premature  movement  for  peace  based  on 
compromise  and  concessions.  The  criticism  of  the  Govern- 
ment, to  which  I  have  referred,  was  accompanied,  and  in 
part  sustained,  by  the  sense  of  weariness  and  discourage- 
ment as  the  war  still  went  on  without  decisive  results.  To 
such  an  extent  had  this  feeling  developed,  that  when  the 
Democratic  Convention  met  in  the  summer  of  '64,  the  con- 
vention was  emboldened  to  pass  a  resolution,  prepared  by 
Vallandigham,  based  on  the  assertion  of  "four  years  of 
failure  to  restore  the  Union  by  the  experiment  of  war,"  and 
calling  for  a  "  convention  of  the  States  or  other  peaceable 
means"  for  the  restoration  of  the  Union.  Horace  Greeley 
was  equally  urgent  for  immediate  peace,  and  sought  to 
bring  about  specific  negotiations  —  a  movement  which 
called  out  Mr.  Lincoln's  very  definite  and  very  decisive 
statement  of  the  terms  of  peace.  "To  whom  it  may  con- 
cern: Any  proposition  which  embraces  the  restoration  of 
peace,  the  integrity  of  the  whole  Union,  and  the  abandon- 
ment of  slavery,  and  which  comes  by  and  with  an  author- 
ity that  can  control  the  armies  now  at  war  against  the 


ENVIRONMENT  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR    47 

United  States,  will  be  received  and  considered  by  the  ex- 
ecutive government  of  the  United  States,  and  will  be  met 
by  liberal  terms  on  other  substantial  and  collateral  points, 
and  the  bearer  or  bearers  thereof  shall  have  safe  conduct 
both  ways."  I  have  been  led  to  quote  this  statement  partly 
that  I  may  bear  witness  to  the  comfort  and  strength  which 
it  has  given  to  me  at  the  time  of  writing,  under  the  demands 
from  so  many  sources  for  peace  without  definite  and  deci- 
sive results.  And  yet  it  is  but  fair  to  recall,  in  spite  of  this 
just  and  conclusive  statement  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Lincoln, 
the  dissatisfaction  with  him  personally  as  well  as  with  the 
Administration,  which  then  pervaded  the  country.  In  the 
light  of  the  present  universal  feeling  toward  Mr.  Lincoln, 
it  seems  impossible  that  such  a  state  of  feeling  could  have 
existed.  But  such  was  the  fact.  As  I  recall  those  days  of 
confusion  and  distrust,  I  cannot  remember  that  any  one 
really  thought  of  Mr.  Lincoln  or  felt  toward  him,  as  every 
one  now  thinks  of  him  and  feels  toward  him.  Many  de- 
spaired of  his  reelection;  some  openly  preferred  the  elec- 
tion of  some  other  man;  here  and  there  a  man,  like  Salmon 
P.  Chase,  did  not  hesitate  to  allow  the  consideration  of  his 
name  as  a  candidate.  There  was  a  time  when  Mr.  Lin- 
coln himself  so  far  doubted  the  possibility  of  his  reelec- 
tion that  he  wrote  the  now  well-known  but  then  private 
memorandum:  "This  morning,  as  for  some  days  past,  it 
seems  exceedingly  probable  that  this  administration  will 
not  be  reelected.  Then  it  will  be  my  duty  to  so  cooper- 
ate with  the  President-elect  as  to  save  the  Union  between 
the  election  and  the  inauguration;  as  he  will  have  se- 
cured his  election  on  such  ground  that  he  cannot  possi- 
bly save  it  afterward."  Happily  for  the  country,  South 
as  well  as  North,  his  fears  were  not  justified  by  the 


48  MY  GENERATION 

result,  but  his  own  state  of  mind,  reflected  in  that  of  so 
many  of  his  personal  and  political  friends,  shows  a  phase 
of  the  ordeal  of  war  which  can  hardly  be  surpassed  by 
the  ordeal  of  battle. 

In  the  spring  of  1864,  having  then  entered  Andover  Sem- 
inary, I  obtained  leave  of  absence  for  service  in  the  United 
States  Christian  Commission,  and  was  ordered  to  report  at 
Nashville,  the  headquarters  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumber- 
land under  General  Thomas.  The  United  States  Christian 
Commission  and  the  United  States  Sanitary  Commission 
were  the  two  links  between  the  army  in  the  field,  and  those 
at  home  most  directly  and  personally  concerned  in  their 
welfare.  Of  these  two  Commissions,  the  former  was  perhaps 
the  more  strictly  personal  in  its  work,  relying  less  upon 
supplies,  but  each  cooperated  with  the  other,  especially  in 
the  hospitals  and  on  the  battle-fields.  Its  policy,  as  I  have 
said,  was  to  keep  the  moral  forces  of  the  country  in  the 
closest  and  most  helpful  relation  with  the  men  in  the  field. 
With  this  end  in  view,  the  men  under  its  direction  were 
pushed  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  front,  and  distributed 
among  the  regiments  rather  than  assigned  to  specific  regi- 
ments. Nashville  was  a  base  for  army  supplies  and  a  site 
for  base  hospitals.  The  center  of  active  operation  for  the 
western  Army  was  Chattanooga,  where  General  Sherman 
was  engaged  in  reorganizing  and  consolidating  the  Armies 
of  the  Cumberland,  the  Tennessee,  and  the  Ohio,  in  prepa- 
ration for  his  march  to  Atlanta.  After  a  short  term  of  office 
work  and  hospital  visitation  at  Nashville,  I  was  sent  with 
others  of  my  group  to  Chattanooga,  where  our  work  began 
with  the  men  in  the  encampments. 

Any  section  of  an  army  seems  at  first  to  be  inaccessible 
to  individual  and  personal  approach.  It  seems  impossible 


ENVIRONMENT  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR    49 

to  individualize  men  so  completely  organized,  or  to  reach 
them  in  unorganized  groups.  But  nothing  according  to  my 
experience  could  be  farther  from  the  fact.  I  found  that  the 
human  approach  could  be  counted  upon  to  reach  far 
among  men,  and  to  "find"  them.  The  opportunities  before 
the  Christian  Commission  were  constant  and  varied  —  in 
some  cases  to  supplement  the  regular  agencies  at  work,  in 
more  cases  to  take  the  initiative,  so  great  was  the  need  of 
service  especially  on  the  march  and  in  battle.  A  few  entries 
from  my  diary  at  the  front,  the  record  only  of  a  few  con- 
secutive days,  may  give  a  better  idea  of  this  need  than 
any  general  statement. 

Sunday,  May  8.  With  General  Howard's  Division  on  the 
march  to  Atlanta.  Uncertain  at  what  hour  march  would  be  re- 
sumed. Morning  service  with  88th  Illinois,  a  very  atten- 
tive audience.  Had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  general  call 
was  sounded,  taken  up  by  the  Brigade;  in  fifteen  minutes  tents 
down  and  troops  in  marching  order;  two  miles  to  Rocky  Face 
Ridge,  found  there  fifteen  men  of  125th  Ohio  wounded  in  morn- 
ing skirmish;  staid  with  them  till  dusk,  then  went  on  with  am- 
bulance train  to  Tunnel  Hill.  Coffee  on  the  road  with  2d  Mis- 
souri, Dutch  Regiment. 

Monday,  May  9.  Forenoon  assisting  in  care  of  wounded:  af- 
ternoon attended  funeral  of  Simeon  Carter,  one  of  the  men  for 
whom  I  had  written  to  his  home  just  before  his  death;  night  till 
one  o'clock  in  dressing  wounds,  20  cases. 

Tuesday,  May  10.  Up  at  half-past  three  to  help  in  moving 
wounded  to  train  —  through  the  day  with  brief  intervals  in 
dressing  wounds  of  men  from  the  field. 

Wednesday  and  Thursday,  May  11th  &  12th.  Both  days  at 
hospital.  Very  little  complaint  among  wounded,  enduring  of  pain 
remarkable.  Occasional  criticism  from  officers  who  suffered  from 
frontal  attacks  made  as  at  Rocky  Face  Ridge  which  seemed  to 
them  needless,  but  which  were  deemed  necessary  to  hold  the 
enemy  while  flanking  operations  were  going  on.  (The  direct  as- 


So  MY  GENERATION 

sault  at  Kenesaw  Mountain  was  the  only  move  in  this  campaign 
for  which  Sherman  has  been  criticised  for  substituting  direct  at- 
tack for  a  flanking  movement.) 

Friday,  May  13.  Started  at  seven  on  march  from  Tunnel  Hill. 
Confederate  entrenchment  evacuated  so  hastily  in  night  that  we 
breakfasted  on  hoe-cake  left  before  the  fire  and  still  warm.  The 
dead  still  lying  along  the  heights  stormed  by  Hooker's  Brigade. 
Marched  fifteen  miles  and  camped  for  night  with  wagon  train 
without  pitching  tent. 

Saturday,  May  14.  On  the  road  to  Resaca;  battle  opened  at 
noon;  was  stationed  where  could  see  the  troops  deployed  in  im- 
mediate rear  of  battle-field.  Casualties  increased  as  the  day  wore 
on,  and  were  severe  on  the  following  day.  At  first  wounded  cared 
for  on  the  field,  but  later  in  hospitals  in  the  rear.  In  the  night 
sent  back  to  the  field  as  it  was  mistakenly  thought  that  the  first 
entrenchment  had  been  carried;  at  work  according  to  need  on 
the  field  or  in  the  hospital. 

On  the  march  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea  the  work  of  the 
Commission  was  suspended.  My  comrade  on  the  earlier 
march  (Lloyd,  of  Cincinnati)  and  I  carried  a  dog  tent  be- 
tween us  which  we  pitched  at  night,  unless  we  found  other 
quarters.  Naturally  our  main  service  was  in  the  field  hos- 
pitals, but  there  was  still  occasional  opportunity  for  meet- 
ing with  groups  of  the  men  in  the  evening  encampments. 
Serious,  and  at  times  heartrending,  as  the  work  was  among 
the  wounded  and  dying,  the  services  in  the  encampments 
were  often  strangely  impressive.  As  I  recall  them  I  am  re- 
minded of  the  singular  truthfulness  of  the  lines  in  the 
"Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic": 

"I  have  seen  Him  in  the  watch-fires  of  a  hundred  circling  camps; 
They  have  builded  Him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews  and  damps." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY 

The  ordeal  of  war  produced  a  twofold  effect.  The  war  was 
carried  on,  so  far  at  least  as  the  North  was  concerned,  with 
a  heavy  heart.  It  was  a  civil  war,  of  which  fact  there  were 
constant  reminders.  There  was  an  entire  absence  of  those 
incentives  or  excitements  which  attend  a  foreign  war.  The 
Civil  War  was  purely  a  war  for  the  national  preservation 
and  the  national  purification.  As  Mr.  Lincoln  saw  it,  it 
was  a  war  for  the  national  preservation  through  the  na- 
tional purification.  In  his  own  words  —  "This  Govern- 
ment cannot  endure  permanently  half  slave  and  half  free." 
But  this  cleansing  task,  though  of  the  highest  ethical 
meaning  and  in  this  sense  inspiring,  was  like  all  things  of 
the  nature  of  chastisement,  "not  joyous  but  grievous." 
There  was  little  of  the  glamour  of  war  about  it.  The  war 
did  not  engender  the  military  spirit.  Far  more  of  this  spirit 
had  been  kindled  by  the  Mexican  War.  The  heroes  of  that 
war,  Scott  and  Taylor,  were  preferred  as  presidential  can- 
didates to  statesmen  of  the  order  of  Mr.  Webster.  General 
Grant  was  in  due  time  chosen  to  the  Presidency,  not  under 
reflected  light  of  his  victories,  but  in  the  confidence  that  he, 
better  than  any  other  man,  could  be  trusted  to  carry  out 
the  general  policy  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  General  Grant,  though 
a  great  soldier,  and  only  by  the  necessities  of  the  time  and 
by  slow  training  fitted  for  political  duties,  was  essentially 
a  man  of  peace.  In  this  respect  he  was  a  true  representative 
of  the  nation.  The  victories  which  brought  the  war  to  a 
successful  close  were  not  hailed  in  the  spirit  of  triumph. 


52  MY  GENERATION 

There  were  no  prolonged  celebrations.  The  nation  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  disarm  itself.  A  million  soldiers  made 
haste  to  return  to  the  duties  or  the  plans  they  had  relin- 
quished on  the  call  to  arms. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  a  deep  and  abiding  sense  of 
satisfaction  that  the  task  which  had  been  undertaken  had 
been  thoroughly  accomplished.  There  had  been  no  prema- 
ture or  indecisive  peace.  The  outcome  was  not  a  compro- 
mise. The  nation  emerged  from  the  war  no  longer  "half 
slave  and  half  free."  The  unity  of  the  nation  had  at  last 
been  achieved  and  insured.  The  country  had  become  to 
the  knowledge  and  in  the  sight  of  all  the  people  one  and 
indivisible.  The  change  from  a  sense  of  fear  to  a  sense  of 
security  gave  a  new  significance  to  the  national  life.  The 
integrity  of  the  nation  made  a  new  and  far-reaching  appeal 
to  the  imagination  of  the  people.  They  saw  the  nation  not 
only  in  its  wholeness,  but  also  in  its  vastness  —  the  vast- 
ness  of  its  unpossessed  lands  and  undeveloped  resources, 
the  vastness  also  of  its  human  and  spiritual  possibilities. 
The  mind  of  the  nation  turned  with  relief  from  the  domi- 
nating issues  of  the  war,  and  with  a  certain  impatience 
from  the  task  of  political  reconstruction,  to  enter  upon  the 
realization  of  the  alluring  and  well-nigh  unlimited  oppor- 
tunities now  before  it.  The  era  which  followed  the  war  was 
distinctively  an  era  of  expansion,  visible  in  the  increase 
of  immigration,  in  the  advance  of  the  agricultural  frontier, 
in  the  extension  of  railroads,  in  the  rise  of  new  industries, 
and  in  the  evolution  of  the  industrial  classes.  The  expan- 
sion of  the  more  spiritual  life  of  the  country  took  place 
more  slowly.  It  could  not  be  seen  so  readily,  but  it  could 
be  felt. 

Naturally  so  great  a  change  in  the  national  outlook 


THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY    53 

brought  about  many  changes  in  personal  careers,  especially 
with  those  who  were  within  the  period  of  the  final  choice 
of  a  business  or  of  a  profession.  This  period  now  became 
a  season  of  reappraisals  and  revaluations  in  the  light  of 
newly  awakened  ambitions,  or  of  more  decisive  appeals  of 
duty.  As  it  was  at  this  point  that  the  directive  influence 
of  the  generation  upon  individual  choices  and  plans  began 
to  assert  itself,  I  call  renewed  attention  to  the  fact  of  this 
influence,  that  the  subsequent  course  of  many  individual 
careers  involving  unexpected  changes  may  be  understood. 
Changes  which  might  otherwise  be  attributed  to  mere  op- 
portunism as  a  guiding  principle,  have  their  explanation 
in  this  directive  and  dominating  influence  which  I  am  em- 
phasizing. A  man  could  not  make  himself  most  effective 
or  most  serviceable  without  constant  regard  to  the  direc- 
tion of  the  forces  which  determined  the  movement  of  his 
time.  There  never  was  a  generation  in  which  the  small 
consistencies  of  men  counted  for  so  little  as  against  the 
insight  and  the  courage  to  take  the  path  of  progress. 

The  personal  change  in  my  own  case  in  the  choice  of  a 
profession  was  from  the  law  to  the  ministry.  While  in  col- 
lege, my  interest  was  in  those  courses  which  had  a  bearing 
on  law.  The  subject  assigned  me  by  the  faculty  for  com- 
mencement was  "The  Obligation  of  the  Country  to  its 
Jurists."  This  predilection  toward  the  law  was,  however, 
more  indicative  of  my  interest  and  ambition  than  of  any 
definite  or  well-considered  choice  of  a  profession  in  its  re- 
lation to  public  duties.  Doubtless  the  moral  effect  of  the 
war  upon  others  who  had  chosen  the  law,  was  to  confirm 
them  in  their  original  choice,  and  upon  others  still  to  lead 
them  to  make  the  law  their  choice.  Certainly  the  law  in 
itself  can  never  fail  in  its  appeal  to  the  sober  and  unselfish 


54  MY  GENERATION 

judgment  of  men.  But  to  me  it  seemed,  upon  reflection, 
that  the  ministry  stood  for  the  time  being  in  closer  relation 
to  what  may  be  termed  the  personal  element  in  professional 
service.  Nor  do  I  hesitate  to  add  that  the  field  of  opportu- 
nity which  it  then  offered  seemed  to  be  wider  when  given 
its  full  range.  The  moral  necessities  of  the  situation  made 
their  own  appeal  to  the  imagination,  and  taken  in  connec- 
tion with  the  new  stirrings  of  thought,  carried  the  appeal 
over  into  the  region  of  intellectual  adventure.  I  am  still 
conscious  that  the  call  to  the  ministry,  as  I  then  inter- 
preted it,  lacked  some  of  the  usual  motives.  It  was  not  the 
conventional  call  of  the  Church.  But  it  took  account  of 
certain  moral  and  spiritual  values  which  were  not  then 
emphasized  in  the  creeds,  and  which  had  little  recognition 
within  the  sphere  of  organized  religion.  It  was  a  call, 
though  imperfectly  apprehended,  to  that  larger  ministry 
which  was  soon  to  find  its  place  within  the  scope  of  modern 
Christianity. 

I  think  that  this  wider  interpretation  of  the  call  to  the 
ministry  must  have  been  in  the  mind  of  many  then  enter- 
ing the  profession,  judging  by  the  subsequent  careers  of 
some  of  my  immediate  associates  in  Andover  Seminary. 
In  my  own  class,  several  have  carried  their  activities  be- 
yond the  .range  of  the  pastorate,  —  Archdeacon  Allen  and 
Dr.  Waldron,  of  Boston,  the  former  of  the  Episcopal  City 
Mission  and  President  of  the  New  England  Watch  and 
Ward  Society,  the  latter  Superintendent  of  the  City  Mis- 
sionary Society  and  Chaplain  of  the  Massachusetts  House 
of  Representatives  from  1879  until  his  death;  Samuel  W. 
Dike,  founder  and  Secretary  of  the  New  England  Divorce 
Reform  League;  and  four  college  presidents,  Francis  H. 
Snow,  of  the  University  of  Kansas,  James  G.  Merrill,  of 


THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY     55 

Fiske  University,  John  H.  Morley,  of  Fargo  College,  and 
myself;  and  outside  my  class,  but  in  the  group  of  inti- 
mates, men  whose  range  of  thought  was  wider  than  that 
of  their  professional  training,  as  George  H.  Palmer,  of 
Harvard,  John  H.  Denison,  of  Williams,  Cecil  F.  P.  Ban- 
croft, of  Phillips  (Andover)  Academy,  Newman  Smyth, 
and  Joseph  Cook. 

Andover  Seminary  was  at  this  time  in  a  peculiar  sense 
a  theological  school,  not  a  school  of  Biblical  or  historical 
criticism  like  the  German  schools,  nor  a  school  of  ec- 
clesiastical dogma  like  Oxford,  nor  like  the  unorganized 
"school"  of  liberal  thought  in  which  Maurice,  Kingsley, 
and  men  of  their  type  were  the  unaccredited  teachers. 
Established  to  modify  the  influence  of  an  extreme  Cal- 
vinism, and  at  the  same  time  to  counteract  the  spread 
of  Unitarianism,  it  necessarily  developed  a  controversial 
attitude.  It  also  developed,  as  a  result  of  its  theological 
holdings,  a  strong  missionary  spirit.  The  oldest  and  most 
influential  school  of  theology  in  New  England,  it  had 
gained  more  than  local  influence  through  its  chair  of 
Christian  Theology,  then  occupied  by  Professor  Edwards 
A.  Park.  It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for  students  in 
medical  and  theological  schools  to  shift  from  one  school  to 
another,  attracted  by  the  fame  of  the  superior  teachers, 
often  remaining  but  one  year  in  a  given  school.  The  lec- 
tures of  the  Professor  of  Christian  Theology  occupied  the 
entire  time  of  the  middle  year  in  the  seminary  curriculum. 
As  theology  was  treated  by  Professor  Park,  the  lectures 
became  the  attraction  and  stimulus  of  the  seminary 
course.  I  can  hardly  go  farther  and  affirm  with  equal  as- 
surance their  inspirational  quality.  The  stage  of  earnest 
controversy  had  passed.  There  was  little  to  fear  theologi- 


56  MY  GENERATION 

cally  either  from  extreme  Calvinism  or  from  Unitarianism. 
But  the  controversial  form  of  statement  still  remained  the 
best  form  for  logical  and  rhetorical  effect.  The  essential 
tenet  of  the  Andover  School  —  at  once  the  liberalizing  and 
the  sobering  influence  of  its  theology  —  was  the  freedom 
of  the  human  will.  This  tenet  was  reasoned  by  Professor 
Park  with  great  ingenuity,  with  no  little  sarcasm  at  the 
expense  of  opponents,  and  often  under  a  moving  conscious- 
ness of  the  practical  effect  of  the  holding  of  the  tenet 
upon  human  action  and  destiny.  The  will  was  divided  and 
subdivided  according  to  its  moral  responsibilities,  and 
according  to  the  results  of  its  choices.  There  were  the  ordi- 
nary choices,  there  were  "primary  choices,"  there  were 
"predominant  choices,"  and  there  was  the  "primary  pre- 
dominant choice,"  which  if  right,  the  man  was  right  here 
and  hereafter. 

"Mr.  Blank,"  said  Professor  Park  one  day  to  a  sup- 
posedly obtuse  student,  "if  Peter  had  died  when  he  was 
cursing  and  swearing,  where  would  he  have  gone?" 

"Gone  to  heaven,  Sir." 

"Doubtless,"  replied  the  Professor,  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  the  promptness  of  the  answer,  "but  how  would 
he  have  gotten  there?" 

"Got  there  on  his  primary  predominant." 

The  name  of  Professor  Austin  Phelps  is  always  associ- 
ated with  that  of  Professor  Park  in  recalling  the  Andover 
of  the  period.  They  wrought  together,  the  latter  in  the 
chair  of  Homiletics  (or  "Sacred  Rhetoric"),  for  thirty 
years  in  a  remarkable  professorial  partnership,  to  which 
it  was  generally  assumed  that  Professor  Phelps  contributed 
the  more  spiritual  element.  But  spirituality  is  difficult  to 
define.  It  was  in  this  case,  I  think,  due  in  part  to  a  certain 


PROFESSORS  IN  ANDOVER  SEMINARY  IN  THE  EARLY  SIXTIES 

Calvin  E.  Stowe  Austin  Phelps 

Edwards  A.  Park 


THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY     57 

introspective  habit  of  mind,  and  was  in  part  temperamen- 
tal. The  lectures  of  Professor  Phelps  on  "The  Theory  of 
Preaching"  (since  published)  made  the  Andover  sermon 
a  distinct  product  of  the  pulpit.  It  stood  for  clear  and 
accurate  thinking,  and  was  always  a  guarantee  of  good 
English.  There  was  an  educating  as  well  as  stimulating 
force  about  it  which  made  it  \  conducive  to  long  pasto- 
rates. 

Less  distinctively  of  Andover  was  Professor  Calvin  E. 
Stowe,  of  the  chair  of  Sacred  Literature,  sufficiently  dis- 
tinctive, however,  in  himself,  and  through  his  family. 
Professor  Stowe  came  to  Andover  just  as  Mrs.  Stowe  had 
brought  out  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  written  while  the 
family  was  in  Brunswick,  Maine.  The  whole  family  was 
an  invigorating  presence  on  Andover  Hill.  Its  various  in- 
tellectual gifts  had  full  play  under  its  free  and  informal 
habits.  Professor  Stowe  was  perhaps  the  most  characteris- 
tic member  of  the  group,  open,  hearty,  brusque  —  a  kind 
of  English  squire  in  a  professor's  chair.  He  was  a  well- 
informed  Biblical  student,  but  an  interpreter  rather  than 
an  exegete.  His  sturdy  common  sense  pervaded  the  class- 
room like  a  northwest  wind.  The  vagaries  of  certain 
German  commentators  were  a  constant  offense  to  him  and 
an  unfailing  source  of  irritation.  Not  infrequently  when  a 
student  would  ask  (perhaps  innocently)  if  such  or  such 
a  commentator  did  not  hold  an  opposite  view  from  that 
he  was  expounding,  he  would  burst  out:  "I  know  he  does; 
it's  a  part  of  his  intolerable  conceit.  I  have  no  patience 
with  him.  He  is  not  worth  answering."  And  then  he  would 
proceed  to  "answer,"  growing  more  heated  as  he  proceeded 
till  his  "answer"  brought  him  to  the  invariable  conclusion 
—  "Gentlemen,  no  more  lecture  to-day:  voice  all  gone." 


58  MY  GENERATION 

Other  men  had  then  recently  entered  the  Faculty  who 
were  to  add  to  its  influence  and  reputation,  but  these  men 
together  with  the  working  traditions  of  the  Seminary  made 
up  the  Andover  of  the  day.  It  represented  an  advanced 
theology,  keen  intellectual  life,  and  the  spirit  of  devotion 
for  service  at  home  or  abroad.  What  was  lacking,  and  the 
lack  was  serious,  was  some  fresh,  more  direct,  and  pene- 
trating approach  to  the  heart  of  Christianity.  The  theo- 
logical advance  from  old  to  new  school  had  created  an 
unmistakable  feeling  of  satisfaction.  The  "New  England 
Theology"  was  quite  too  near  the  finished  article.  Like 
every  great  religious  holding  of  the  truth,  it  was  vitalized 
at  times  by  spiritual  quickenings,  but  the  continuous 
struggle  after  truth,  the  tremendous  earnestness  of  search 
rather  than  of  inquiry,  the  conflict  with  doubt,  the  baffled 
but  determined  demand  for  personal  assurance  and  per- 
sonal possession,  were  not  conspicuously  in  evidence.  The 
theological  atmosphere  was  not  highly  charged  with  in- 
tellectual or  moral  passion. 

The  relief  from  this  condition,  supplying  the  very  ele- 
ment which  was  lacking,  came  to  some  of  us  from  an  unex- 
pected and  apparently  incidental  source.  Toward  the  close 
of  my  seminary  course,  the  "Life  and  Letters  of  Frederick 
W.  Robertson,"  of  Brighton,  by  Stopford  A.  Brooke,  were 
published.  Several  editions  of  his  sermons  had  already 
been  issued.  Taken  together,  they  revealed  a  mind  which 
had  passed  through  the  stage  of  doubt,  search,  and  con- 
flict, and  was  now  able  to  state  the  intellectual  results  of 
personal  experience  with  the  lucidity  of  genius.  Robert- 
son's gift  was  the  supreme  gift  of  interpretation.  He  was 
able  to  carry  over  the  consideration  of  theological  subjects 
from  the  region  of  dialectics  into  the  region  of  interpreta- 


THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY    59 

tion.  He  refused  to  become  the  champion  of  any  school  or 
party.  Indeed,  no  school  or  party  was  disposed  to  accept 
him  as  a  champion.  He  stood  quite  alone  during  his  brief 
life,  even  among  those  with  whom  he  would  have  been 
naturally  affiliated,  not  through  any  obstinate  independ- 
ence, but  separated  from  like-minded  men  by  the  soli- 
tariness and  intensity  of  his  intellectual  and  spiritual 
experience. 

I  refer  somewhat  at  length  in  this  connection  to  Robert- 
son's career  in  the  desire  to  explain  the  unique  and  timely 
influence  which  he  exerted,  and  out  of  a  sense  of  personal 
gratitude.  Robertson  died  at  thirty-seven.  What  may  be 
termed  his  career  was  comprised  within  the  last  six  years 
of  his  life,  during  his  incumbency  at  Rrighton,  and  his 
influence  was  chiefly  posthumous,  entirely  so  in  this  coun- 
try and  largely  so  in  England.  His  name  was  not  known  as 
a  preacher  in  London,  and  he  received  no  academic  or 
ecclesiastical  recognition.  The  son  of  an  army  officer  and  of 
military  ancestry,  he  had  set  his  heart  upon  the  army  and 
had  actually  received  a  commission,  when  at  the  persua- 
sion of  his  father,  who  was  a  man  of  strong  religious  char- 
acter, he  entered  Rrasenose,  Oxford,  and  in  due  time  took 
orders  in  the  Church.  His  early  ministry  was  of  the  ordi- 
nary type  except  for  the  display  of  his  rare  personal  quali- 
ties. The  stress  of  theological  discussion  in  England  had 
then  fallen  upon  an  exciting  but  secondary  issue  known  as 
the  Tractarian  Controversy,  now  associated  with  the  de- 
fection of  Newman  from  the  Anglican  Church.  The  con- 
troversy had  little  interest  for  Robertson,  and  no  direct 
influence  upon  him,  but  indirectly  it  produced  a  great 
effect  upon  him.  Confused  and  disheartened  by  the  unreal- 
ities, to  him,  at  least,  of  the  current  religious  thought,  he 


60  MY  GENERATION 

determined  upon  that  search  after  reality  which  was  to 
lead  him  ultimately  into  the  assurance  of  faith.  How  seri- 
ous the  search  became  has  been  told  by  him  in  a  lecture 
before  the  Workingmen's  Institute  of  Brighton,  on  the  in- 
troduction of  skeptical  publications  into  their  library  — 
one  of  the  most  intimate  and  courageous  addresses  ever 
given  on  a  sensitive  public  issue.  He  there  lays  bare,  out 
of  his  own  experience,  that  "fearful  loneliness  of  spirit," 
when  the  soul  "begins  to  feel  the  nothingness  of  many  of 
the  traditionary  opinions  which  have  been  received  with 
implicit  confidence,  and  in  that  horrible  insecurity  begins 
also  to  doubt  whether  there  be  anything  to  believe  at  all. 
It  is  an  awful  hour  —  let  him  who  has  passed  through  it 
say  how  awful  —  when  this  life  has  lost  its  meaning,  and 
seems  shrivelled  into  a  span;  when  the  grave  appears  to  be 
the  end  of  all,  human  goodness  nothing  but  a  name,  and 
the  sky  above  this  universe  a  dead  expanse,  black  with  the 
void  from  which  God  himself  has  disappeared."  Of  course 
this  experience  took  him  for  the  time  being  from  the  pul- 
pit. He  found  refuge  and  spiritual  companionship  in  the 
solitude  of  the  Tyrol.  Otherwise  he  made  his  search  alone, 
and  as  the  search  and  the  struggle  were  his,  so  the  result 
bore  the  distinctive  mark  of  his  personality.  The  result 
was  not  merely  a  new  acceptance  of  Christianity;  it  stood 
for  a  new  meaning  of  Christianity.  And  yet  he  did  not 
make  the  mistake  of  passing  by  that  which  was  most  evi- 
dent and  most  easily  within  reach.  His  search  led  him 
directly  to  the  person  of  Christ  and  to  that  phase  of  it  the 
most  accessible.  "It  was  the  Glory  of  the  Son  of  Man," 
says  his  biographer,  "  which  shone  roundabout  him  and 
lightened  his  way.  In  the  light  of  this  glory  he  was  able  to 
gain  a  true  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fullness  of  Christ." 


THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY    61 

The  charm  and  the  power  of  Robertson's  conception  of 
Christianity  lay  in  the  naturalness  of  the  conception.  It 
made  the  relation  of  God  to  man,  and  the  relation  of 
man  to  God  natural.  In  Robertson's  own  words,  "  Christ 
came  to  reveal  a  name  —  the  Father.  He  abolished  the 
exclusive 'my' and  taught  to  pray  *  Our  Father ' ;  He  pro- 
claimed God  the  Father,  man  the  son;  man  as  man,  a 
son  of  God.  He  came  to  redeem  the  world  from  that  igno- 
rance of  the  relationship  which  had  left  men  in  heart  aliens 
and  unregenerate."  "This,  then,"  he  continued,  "  is  the 
Christian  revelation  —  man  is  God's  child  and  the  sin  of 
man  consists  in  perpetually  living  as  if  it  were  false."  The 
significance  of  Christian  baptism  in  his  view  was  that  it 
declared  every  one  to  be  a  child  of  God.  It  revealed  and 
affirmed  the  natural  relation  of  man  to  God.  Something 
of  the  same  view  was  held  by  Dr.  Rushnell  in  his  theory 
of  Christian  nurture  —  "that  the  child  is  to  grow  up  a 
Christian,  and  never  know  himself  as  being  otherwise." 

1  This  conception  of  Christianity,  as  the  power  of  God 
working  on  the  basis  of  human  sonship,  had  never  been 
laid  hold  of  with  such  clearness  of  apprehension,  or  in- 
terpreted with  so  deep  and  inclusive  a  meaning  as  in  the 
utterances  of  Robertson  when  he  returned  to  the  pulpit. 
It  was  the  ground  of  his  intense  hatred  of  sin,  and  of 
his  tender,  almost  reverent,  regard  for  sinning  men  and 
women.  And  certainly  never  was  the  doctrine  of  Christ 
enforced  with  a  more  passionate  devotion  to  his  person. 
1  There  was  a  rare  combination  of  influences  tending  to 
give  effect  to  this  presentation  of  Christianity,  when  once 
the  "Sermons"  and  the  "Life  and  Letters"  of  Robertson 
came  to  be  read  so  widely  on  both  continents.  To  those 
especially  who  were  studying  "theology"  with  a  view  .to 


62  MY  GENERATION 

the  Christian  ministry,  Robertson  became  in  many  ways  a 
quickening  and  guiding  force.  His  intellectual  insight,  the 
clarity  of  his  utterances,  the  unconsciousness  of  his  art  as 
a  preacher,  his  spiritual  struggles,  his  brief  and  almost 
tragic  career,  and  his  unique  personality  (he  was  the  most 
knightly  man  in  the  pulpit  of  his  generation)  —  all  con- 
spired to  render  him  a  most  timely  influence  in  the  world 
of  religious  thought  at  the  time  of  my  theological  studies. 
There  was  that  about  his  experience  of  Christian  truth  and 
about  his  teaching  of  it,  which  struck  the  note  of  reality. 
For  the  impression  then  made  upon  my  mind  of  the  su- 
preme importance  of  this  quality,  in  the  holding  and  teach- 
ing of  the  Christian  faith,  I  am  profoundly  grateful  to  the 
influence  of  the  spirit  and  teachings  of  Robertson.  His 
fundamental  conception  of  Christianity  as  revealing  the 
fact  of  human  sonship,  every  man  by  nature  a  son  of 
God,  has  been  the  conception  which  has  most  influenced 
me  in  my  work  in  the  pulpit  and  among  men.  It  has  given 
me  a  steady  working  faith  in  human  nature.  I  have  not 
been  afraid  of  what  may  have  seemed  to  others  to  be  an 
overestimation  of  men. 


CHAPTER  V 

TWO  PASTORATES 

The  Franklin  Street  {Congregational)  Church,  Manchester, 

New  Hampshire,  1867-75 

The  Madison  Square  (Presbyterian)  Church,  New  York  City, 

1875-80 

It  had  been  my  hope  that  I  might  begin  my  ministry  in 
some  direct  connection  with  the  work  of  religious  recon- 
struction following  upon  the  war.  With  this  in  view,  I  spent 
several  months  in  the  service  of  the  American  Home  Mis- 
sionary Society,  in  investigating  religious  conditions  in 
southwestern  Missouri  and  southeastern  Kansas.  The  sit- 
uation proved  to  be  different  from  what  I  had  hoped  to 
find.  There  was  little  chance  for  religious  cooperation  in 
these  parts  while  the  work  of  political  reconstruction  was 
going  on.  Sectional  animosities  were  in  danger  of  being  in- 
tensified rather  than  allayed  by  the  incoming  of  new  reli- 
gious factors.  The  churches  on  the  ground  were  struggling 
to  recover  themselves,  and  looked  upon  the  planting  of 
other  churches  as  an  intrusion.  The  denominational  spirit 
which  had  been  dormant  was  easily  revived.  In  this  cir- 
cumstance it  seemed  impracticable  to  carry  out  any  asso- 
ciated movement,  as  some  of  us  had  intended  on  leaving 
the  Seminary.  Individual  openings  were  gradually  found, 
but  no  organized  effort,  of  the  significance  of  the  pioneer 
movements  of  the  previous  generation  in  the  newer  States 
of  the  West,  proved  to  be  timely,  or  from  the  religious 
point  of  view  desirable.  As  an  instance  of  the  very  suc- 
cessful use  of  an  individual  opening,  I  note  the  career  of 


64  MY  GENERATION 

my  classmate,  James  G.  Merrill,  who  became  a  most  in- 
fluential factor  in  the  religious  development  of  the  region. 
Previous  to  undertaking  this  tour  of  investigation,  I  had 
received  and  declined  a  call  to  the  Franklin  Street  Church 
of  Manchester,  New  Hampshire.  The  call  having  been 
renewed,  after  it  was  found  that  I  did  not  propose  to  con- 
tinue in  this  service,  I  returned  to  accept  it.  I  was  ordained 
to  the  ministry  on  January  24,  1867,  and  at  the  same  time 
installed  as  pastor  of  the  Franklin  Street  Church. 

THE  FRANKLIN  STREET  PASTORATE 

The  city  of  Manchester  belonged  to  a  group  of  young 
manufacturing  cities  in  the  valley  of  the  Merrimack,  which 
were  the  precursors  of  new  forms  of  material  development, 
and  of  new  types  of  social  organization  throughout  New 
England.  It  had  grown  from  a  village  of  less  than  a  thou- 
sand in  1836  to  a  population  of  over  ten  thousand  in  1846, 
at  which  time  it  was  the  largest  town  in  New  Hampshire, 
and  the  first  to  be  incorporated  as  a  city.  Twenty  years 
later  its  population  had  trebled.  But  the  growth  was  in  no 
sense  loose  and  unorganized.  The  underlying  organization 
was  the  Land  and  Water  Power  Company  which  con- 
trolled the  water-power  at  the  Amoskeag  Falls,  and  had 
purchased  sufficient  adjacent  land,  not  only  for  the  uses  of 
the  corporation,  but  also  for  the  initial  uses  of  the  city. 
Reservations  were  made  for  parks  and  public  buildings. 
Although  the  development  of  the  city  was  planned,  it  was 
not  controlled,  as  in  some  more  recent  instances  of  cities 
known  as  "corporation  communities."  The  manufacturing 
city  of  New  England  was  a  free  city.  The  original,  or  in 
some  cases  originating,  corporation  had  no  exclusive  civic 
rights.  Most  of  these  cities  came  to  represent  diversified 


TWO  PASTORATES  65 

industries.  The  Manchester  Locomotive  Works  were  in 
time  as  well  known  as  the  cotton  mills.  Each  one  of  these 
early  manufacturing  cities  has  continued  to  feel  the  initial 
impulse,  but  in  every  case,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  expansion 
has  been  according  to  its  own  necessities  or  ambitions. 

At  this  stage  in  its  development,  Manchester  grew  by  the 
natural  inflow  of  population  rather  than  by  importation  of 
labor.  The  native  population,  still  quite  large  in  propor- 
tion to  the  foreign,  came  in  chiefly  from  the  neighboring 
towns,  and  from  Massachusetts.  The  foreign  population 
was  principally  Irish,  with  an  admixture  of  German  and 
French.  The  number  of  men  representing  the  various 
kinds  of  business  and  the  professions  was  relatively  large. 
The  situation  was  inviting  to  men  of  initiative.  There  was 
the  promise  of  prosperity  on  secure  foundations.  The  city 
had  gained  an  established  character  while  yet  in  the  con- 
structive and  formative  period.  The  city  grew  steadily  and 
healthily,  and  men  went  about  their  daily  work  under 
stimulating  conditions. 

The  spirit  of  the  city  was  reflected  in  the  character  of  the 
churches  and  of  the  ministry.  Of  the  two  Congregational 
churches,  the  Hanover  Street,  organized  at  the  very  outset, 
had  risen  to  immediate  influence  under  the  labors  of  the 
Reverend  Cyrus  W.  Wallace  (whose  ministry  it  was  to 
enjoy  for  forty  years),  —  a  man  of  great  moral  force  made 
peculiarly  effective  by  his  native  eloquence.  The  Franklin 
Street  had  become  equally  influential  through  a  succession 
of  pastorates  held  by  men  of  varied  ability  —  Henry  M. 
Dexter,  afterwards  editor  of  the  "  Congregationalist " ; 
Henry  Steele  Clarke,  later  of  the  Central  Presbyterian 
Church,  Philadelphia;  Samuel  C.  Bartlett,  after  his 
pastorate  and  professorship  in  Chicago,  President  of  Dart- 


66  MY  GENERATION 

mouth  College;  and  William  H.  Fenn,  my  immediate  pre- 
decessor, a  man  of  brilliant  parts  in  the  pulpit  and  in  soci- 
ety, for  many  years  afterwards  pastor  of  the  High  Street 
Church,  Portland,  Maine.  The  effect  of  this  succession  was 
twofold.  Each  pastor  drew  to  the  church  a  certain  number 
of  like-minded  persons,  a  process  which  broadened  its  in- 
tellectual life;  and  the  comparatively  frequent  choice  of 
pastors,  especially  as  they  were  for  the  most  part  young 
men  (three  including  myself  were  directly  from  the  Semi- 
nary), made  the  church  in  time  self-reliant  and  discerning. 
The  educative  power  of  the  church  over  its  ministers  be- 
came quite  as  marked  as  that  of  its  ministers  over  the 
church.1  I  found  its  unconscious  but  real  training  more 
valuable  than  a  graduate  course  of  study.  There  was  an 
utter  absence  of  criticism,  the  whole  attitude  was  sympa- 
thetic, but  I  understood  at  once  that  much  was  expected. 
The  stimulus,  though  applied  through  attention,  quick 
appreciation,  and  hearty  response,  was  none  the  less  to  be 
interpreted  as  a  stimulus. 

1  In  speaking  at  the  Semi-Centennial  of  the  Franklin  Street  Church  —  Octo- 
ber 9,  1894  —  I  referred  to  this  as  a  continuous  characteristic  of  the  church.  "It 
is  one  of  the  peculiar  distinctions  of  this  church,  as  all  of  its  pastors  will  testify, 
that  the  church  has  educated  its  ministry  as  much  as  its  ministry  has  educated 
the  church.  The  old  proverb  —  '  Like  priest  like  people '  —  stands  partially  re- 
versed in  its  history.  With  two  notable  exceptions  —  I  refer  to  Dr.  Bartlett  and 
to  Dr.  Spalding  —  the  church  has  called  into  its  service  from  first  to  last  untried 
men,  or  men  who  were  in  the  formative  stage  of  their  ministry."  (At  that  time 
the  number  was  eleven.) 

I  took  occasion  also  at  this  time  to  refer  to  the  very  happy  circumstance  of  my 
reception  into  the  home  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Josiah  Crosby,  where  1  remained  till  my 
marriage  two  years  later.  "How  shall  I  tell  you  of  the  generous  home  which  was 
opened  to  me  at  my  coming,  that  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Josiah  Crosby?  What  I  would 
that  I  might  say  to  them  is  the  assurance  of  my  growing  affection  and  esteem. 
What  I  wish  particularly  to  say  to  you  of  them  is,  that  not  a  word  was  ever  said 
by  either  one  touching  any  members  of  this  congregation  which  they  might  not 
have  heard  to  their  advantage."  To  which  I  might  have  added  that  in  their  per- 
sonal lives,  so  calm  and  strong,  so  full  of  public  spirit,  so  brave  in  sorrow,  so  clear 
of  mind  in  things  temporal  and  spiritual,  I  found  a  daily  interpretation  of  the 
Christian  faith. 


TWO  PASTORATES  67 

I  like  to  recall  the  influences  which  were  at  work  in  and 
through  this  early  pastorate,  they  were  so  determinative 
and  so  far-reaching  in  their  effect.  It  was  there  that  I 
learned  that  first  and  most  imperative  lesson  of  the  pulpit 
—  to  respect  one's  audience;  not  to  fear  it,  but  to  respect 
it.  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  habit  from  which  it  is  so  difficult 
for  a  preacher  to  recover,  or  one  in  the  end  more  fatal,  than 
the  habit  of  dealing  in  unverified  knowledge,  of  substitut- 
ing the  premature  appeal  for  the  compelling  thought,  of 
underestimating  the  power  of  the  deeper  motives  which 
underlie  the  spiritual  nature.  It  was  of  peculiar  advantage 
to  me  that  I  began  to  preach  to  an  audience  of  severe  in- 
tellectual demands,  as  I  was  endeavoring  from  the  first 
to  train  myself  to  the  freedom  of  direct  speech  in  the  pulpit, 
without  the  habitual  use  of  manuscript  or  without  reliance 
upon  verbal  memory.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  the  surrender 
to  spiritual  feeling,  that  the  spiritual  abandon  which  the 
truth  in  hand  may  call  for,  was  unsafe  and  ineffective  un- 
less the  preacher  could  assume  the  steady  and  reliable  sup- 
port of  clear,  terse,  and  truthful  speech  —  speech  which 
would  not  weaken  and  disperse  his  emotional  power.  But 
no  theory  of  preaching  could  have  meant  as  much  to  me  as 
the  aid  which  I  received  from  the  unconscious  cooperation 
of  the  audience.  Whatever  of  freedom  I  may  have  gained 
in  the  pulpit  or  on  the  platform,  I  owe  to  the  patient  and 
sympathetic  help  of  those  in  my  first  pastorate  whose 
insistence  upon  the  realities  of  speech  was  not  to  be 
misunderstood. 

Among  the  most  encouraging  results  of  the  Franklin 
Street  pastorate  was  an  experiment  carried  out  in  the  con- 
structive study  of  the  Bible.  It  had  seemed  to  me  that  the 
principle  of  utilizing  a  church  to  its  full  capacity,  through 


68  MY  GENERATION 

the  careful  organization  of  its  benevolence  and  of  its  mis- 
sion work,  might  be  applied  with  even  more  advantage  to 
certain  phases  of  its  own  inner  life.  I  had  felt  that  the  re- 
ceptive habit  had  been  over-developed  in  the  churches, 
particularly  in  reference  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. "Lessons"  and  "Lesson  Helps"  had  virtually  sup- 
planted the  direct  and  original  study  of  the  Bible.  To  re- 
cover this  lost  privilege  of  "searching  the  Scriptures,"  the 
church  was  led  to  attempt  the  work  of  preparing  its  own 
courses  of  study  for  the  use  of  the  Sunday  School.  As  a 
preliminary  step,  a  course  of  lectures  was  given,  running 
for  several  months,  in  which  I  traced  in  detail  the  forma- 
tion of  the  New  Testament.  The  experiment  awakened 
great  interest,  and  called  forth  earnest  study  on  the  part  of 
those  who  volunteered  for  the  service.  Two  courses  on  Old 
Testament  subjects  and  two  on  "The  Christ  of  the  Gos- 
pels," each  occupying  a  year,  were  prepared  and  used. 
The  effect  was  remarkably  quickening.  The  teachers' 
meeting,  held  at  the  close  of  an  early  Sunday  evening  serv- 
ice, was  very  largely  attended  by  members  of  the  congre- 
gation and  not  infrequently  by  strangers,  and  the  discus- 
sions were  often  protracted.  The  Sunday  School  doubled 
its  membership,  the  increase  coming  chiefly  from  adults. 
And  as  a  final  result,  the  spiritual  effect  upon  the  school 
and  the  church  was  most  significant.  I  quote  the  following 
reminiscence  from  a  letter  of  Judge  Samuel  Upton,  then 
superintendent  of  the  school,  to  whom  we  were  chiefly  in- 
debted for  the  success  of  the  movement,  recalling  one  of 
the  more  impressive  spiritual  incidents  connected  with  it. 
The  letter  was  written  for  the  Semi-Centennial  of  the 
Church.  "Well  do  I  remember,"  he  wrote,  "one  pleasant 
Sabbath  day  in  the  fall  of  1874.  A  quiet  stillness  pervaded 


TWO  PASTORATES  69 

the  opening  exercises,  an  earnest  thoughtfulness  marked 
the  study  of  the  lesson.  This  was  upon  the  parable  of  the 
Great  Supper,  especially  upon  the  excuses  made  for  not 
accepting  the  invitation.  In  the  absence  of  the  teacher,  I 
heard  a  class,  composed  of  misses,  many  of  them  members 
of  the  High  School.  In  the  discussion  of  the  excuses,  one  of 
them  remarked  that  she  thought  them  trivial  and  poor.  It 
was  suggested  that  the  invitation  was  to  each  one  of  them, 
and  the  question  was  asked,  How  does  your  excuse  compare 
with  those  mentioned  in  the  lesson?  A  moment  was  given 
for  consideration,  and  then  one  said  that  she  feared  her 
excuse  was  no  better.  Another  said  the  same;  a  third  re- 
plied, T  make  no  excuse,  I  accept  the  invitation.'  It  was 
the  first  fruit  of  a  golden  harvest  —  the  gathering  into 
the  church  during  the  year  following  of  more  than  eighty 
upon  profession  of  faith  —  almost  all  from  the  Sabbath 
School." 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  feature  of  the  development 
of  the  church  during  this  period  was  its  social  expansion, 
or  expansion  in  the  direction  of  democracy.  Like  many 
churches  of  intellectual  and  social  standing  in  a  community 
it  had  acquired  a  reputation  for  exclusiveness.  This  repu- 
tation entirely  belied  its  spirit.  All  that  was  needed  to  over- 
come it  was  some  fit  method  of  exercising  its  hospitality. 
Fortunately  the  site  and  the  structure  of  the  church  build- 
ing suggested  the  method.  The  church  was  located  on  a 
retired  street  adjacent  to  the  City  Hall  and  the  City  Li- 
brary. It  was  passed  by  many  operatives  on  the  way  to 
and  from  their  daily  work.  The  women  of  the  church  read- 
ily cooperated  in  a  plan  of  making  the  parlors  on  the  base- 
ment floor  available  to  the  young  women  operatives  for 
their  winter  evenings.  The  parlors  were  fitted  up  for  this 


70  MY  GENERATION 

purpose,  furnished  with  reading  matter  and  with  games, 
put  under  the  care  of  a  trained  worker,  and  made  in  all 
possible  ways  attractive  for  individual  improvement  and 
for  social  entertainment.  This  experiment  in  church  hos- 
pitality was  greatly  appreciated,  and  served  its  purpose 
admirably  till  it  developed  into  the  Young  Women's 
Christian  Association  of  the  city. 

The  church  building  itself  was  a  plain  structure  of  the 
type  of  the  old  Mount  Vernon  Street,  Boston,  and  Kirk 
Street,  Lowell,  modeled  after  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn. 
The  chief  characteristic  of  the  auditorium  was  the  space 
allotted  to  the  galleries.  When  these  were  unoccupied,  as 
was  the  case  at  this  time  in  the  Franklin  Street  Church, 
it  gave  to  the  whole  interior  an  unsocial  appearance.  The 
congregation  rilled  the  floor  to  repletion,  but  it  halted  at 
the  gallery  stairs.  Social  values  declined  with  the  ascent. 
At  length  it  was  agreed  among  several  families  who  could 
afford  to  make  the  change,  to  leave  their  pews  below  and 
colonize  the  galleries.  It  was  not  long  before  their  presence 
removed  the  unsocial  barrier,  and  insured  more  perfectly 
than  by  any  form  of  solicitation,  a  response  to  the  hitherto 
unaccepted  hospitality  of  the  house.  The  result  was  not 
another  separate  congregation,  but  the  expansion  of  one 
homogeneous  congregation. 

The  seven  years  of  pastoral  service  in  the  Franklin  Street 
Church  were  to  me  years  of  absorbing  and  satisfying  inter- 
est. I  had  meanwhile  no  thought  of  or  desire  for  service  else- 
where. I  never  preached  as  a  candidate  in  any  church,  or 
encouraged  the  solicitations  of  church  committees,  how- 
ever persistent,  to  culminate  in  a  formal  call.  In  two  or 
three  cases,  calls  were  extended  as  a  more  formal  way  of 
solicitation.  One  call  came  to  me  during  the  Franklin 


TWO  PASTORATES  71 

Street  pastorate  —  from  the  Pilgrim  Church  in  St.  Louis 
—  which  in  other  circumstances  would  have  greatly 
moved  me.  It  was  a  call  from  the  general  region  where  I 
had  hoped  to  begin  my  ministry;  but  as  I  had  not  found 
it  advisable  to  enter  it  as  a  home  missionary,  I  felt  that  it 
would  be  inconsistent  to  make  my  entrance  into  it  as  the 
pastor  of  a  city  church. 

The  close  of  my  pastorate  at  Manchester  came  about 
naturally,  and  through  the  local  situation.  The  growth  of 
the  church  had  given  rise  to  the  question  of  enlargement 
or  of  removal.  I  had  advocated  on  general  grounds,  as  well 
as  for  local  reasons,  the  policy  of  the  strong  church,  strong 
not  only  in  resources,  but  in  numbers.  When  I  saw,  how- 
ever, that  my  advocacy  was  in  danger  of  giving  the  move- 
ment too  much  of  a  personal  aspect,  I  decided  that  it  was 
best  to  withdraw  altogether  the  personal  element,  and 
allow  the  policy  to  work  itself  out  in  its  own  time  upon  its 
own  merits.  Three  years  later  the  policy  was  adopted  and 
carried  out,  insuring  the  stability  and  adequate  effective- 
ness of  the  church.  In  the  meantime,  the  Madison  Square 
Church  of  New  York  made  renewed  overtures  to  me  lead- 
ing to  a  call  to  the  pastorate,  which  after  several  con- 
ferences, though  without  previously  occupying  the  pulpit, 
I  accepted,  and  was  installed  as  pastor  of  that  church  on 
the  12th  of  May,  1875. 

THE  MADISON  SQUARE  PASTORATE 

In  looking  over  such  correspondence  as  has  chanced  to 
remain  regarding  the  removal  to  New  York,  I  found  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Manning,  of  the  Old  South  Church,  Bos- 
ton, remonstrating  in  right  brotherly  fashion  against  my 
leaving  New  England.  There  were  other  letters  of  the 


72  MY  GENERATION 

same  purport,  but  as  there  were  no  determining  questions 
of  duty  apart  from  the  circumstances  attending  the  call, 
I  decided  upon  a  change  of  environment.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  traditions  of  one's  religious  training  should 
not  be  allowed  to  fix  the  limits  of  his  possible  service; 
rather  that  as  occasion  might  demand  he  should  come 
to  know,  and  take  a  part,  in  the  broader  religious  life  of 
the  country.  The  denominational  change  involved  in  the 
present  instance  was  of  little  account.  New  England  Con- 
gregationalism had  its  affiliations  with  that  branch  of 
Presbyterianism  of  which  the  Madison  Square  Church 
was  the  chief  representative  in  New  York  City.  The  dif- 
ference in  polity  was  hardly  discernible  in  the  practical 
working  of  church  life.  The  real  change  was  in  the  reli- 
gious atmosphere.  The  New  York  of  that  day  was  less 
theological,  but  more  religious  than  Boston.  Mr.  William 
E.  Dodge,  Jr.,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Duryea 
during  his  pastorate  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  remarked 
after  hearing  him  in  his  later  pastorate  at  the  Central 
Church,  Boston,  "Duryea  is  a  great  preacher,  but  Boston 
is  making  him  confoundedly  metaphysical."  Church  at- 
tendance and  church  observances  were  more  in  evidence  in 
New  York.  Family  religion  was  held  in  more  scrupulous 
regard.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  less  of  what  may  be 
termed  the  "intellectual  appropriation"  of  religion.  Indi- 
vidual doubt  or  questioning  was  more  rare.  Religion  was 
conformity,  obedience,  service.  This  last  characteristic  was 
as  genuine  as  the  others  and  was  exemplified  in  many  ways. 
Every  church  had  its  mission,  and  the  general  philan- 
thropic work  of  the  churches  was  carefully  organized  and 
generously  supported.  One  of  the  most  touching  incidents 
in  my  pastoral  visitation  was  my  visit  to  an  old  gentleman 


TWO  PASTORATES  73 

of  fourscore,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  his  wife  of 
about  the  same  age.  They  had  been  of  one  mind  and  pur- 
pose in  their  lives.  Probably  no  one  in  the  city  had  given 
or  raised  more  money  for  the  relief  of  the  more  acute  forms 
of  suffering  than  my  aged  friend.  After  a  little  he  took  me 
into  the  room  where  his  wife  lay.  Uncovering  her  face,  he 
talked  of  their  common  life  as  only  the  voice  of  age  and 
love  could  speak.  Suddenly  he  paused,  and  took  a  letter 
from  his  pocket — "There,"  said  he,  "is  my  check  from 
Mrs.  Stewart  for  my  woman's  hospital."  Then  resuming 
the  conversation  as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption  — 
there  really  had  been  none  —  he  re-covered  the  face  of  his 
dead,  and  withdrew  to  take  up  again  his  now  solitary  but 
still  joyous  work. 

During  the  decade  from  1870-80,  the  pulpit  of  New 
York  had  begun  to  assume  an  unwonted  character,  through 
the  importation  into  several  of  the  prominent  pulpits  of 
preachers  from  abroad  —  Dr.  John  Hall,  from  Dublin, 
to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church;  Dr.  Llewelyn 
D.  Bevan,  from  London,  to  the  Brick  Church;  Dr.  William 
M.  Taylor,  from  Liverpool,  to  the  Broadway  Tabernacle; 
and  Dr.  William  Ormiston,  from  Canada,  to  the  Collegiate 
Church  on  Twenty-ninth  Street.  Among  the  well-known 
preachers  native  to  the  city  or  to  New  England  were  Dr. 
Morgan  Dix,  of  Trinity  Church;  Dr.  Potter  (afterwards 
Bishop),  of  Grace  Church;  Dr.  Henry  W.  Bellows,  of  All 
Souls  (Unitarian)  Church,  near  Union  Square;  Dr.  Howard 
Crosby  on  Fourth  Avenue,  and  Dr.  William  Adams  at 
Madison  Square.  The  unhappy  contention  between  the 
two  great  pulpit  orators,  Henry  Ward  Beecher  and  Richard 
S.  Storrs,  had  greatly  weakened  the  influence  of  the  pul- 
pit in  the  neighboring  city.  Union  Theological  Seminary 


74  MY  GENERATION 

was  the  intellectual  stronghold  of  the  more  advanced  Pres- 
byterianism  of  the  city,  under  the  direction  of  Professors 
Henry  B.  Smith,  Roswell  D.  Hitchcock,  Philip  Schaff, 
George  L.  Prentiss,  and  William  G.  T.  Shedd.  Not  less 
was  the  moral  strength  and  executive  ability  of  the  Presby- 
terian churches  exemplified  in  such  laymen  as  William  E. 
Dodge,  father  and  son ;  George  W.  Lane  and  John  Taylor 
Johnston,  John  Crosby  Brown  and  D.  Willis  James. 

The  Madison  Square  Church,  after  the  usual  method  of 
church  colonization  in  New  York,  was  organized  out  of  a 
downtown  church  —  the  Central  Presbyterian  Church  on 
Broome  Street.  This  was  in  1853,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
following  year  it  was  able  to  occupy  its  house  of  worship 
on  Madison  Square.  The  growth  was  immediate  and  rapid, 
due  to  two  causes  —  the  leadership  and  ministry  of  Dr. 
William  Adams,  and  its  location.  Dr.  Adams  was  a  man 
altogether  of  New  England  antecedents,  the  son  of  John 
Adams,  the  third  principal  of  Phillips  Academy,  Andover, 
a  graduate  of  Yale,  and  of  Andover  Theological  Seminary. 
His  first  pastorate  was  at  Brighton,  Massachusetts.  For 
seventeen  years  he  had  been  the  pastor  of  the  church  on 
Broome  Street,  taking  with  him  as  the  chief  asset  for  the 
new  church  the  reputation,  confidence,  and  affection  which 
he  had  there  gained.  He  had  beyond  almost  any  minister 
I  have  known,  the  ideal  qualifications  for  the  ordinary  city 
pastorate,  the  pastorate  of  the  family  church.  He  was  a 
man  of  such  personal  presence  as  never  to  require  a  gown 
in  the  pulpit,  of  kindling  and  persuasive  speech,  sincere 
and  unaffected  in  manner,  a  man  of  the  domestic  affec- 
tions, but  equally  of  high  public  spirit,  moving  men  in 
public  and  winning  them  in  private  by  the  power  of  his 
personality.  It  was  fit  that  the  Madison  Square  Church 


MADISON  SQUARE  CHURCH  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 


TWO  PASTORATES  75 

should  have  become  known  with  almost  equal  recognition 
as  Dr.  Adams's  church.  And  yet,  as  I  have  said,  the  church 
owed  much  to  its  location.  Its  site  on  the  east  side  of 
Madison  Square,  where  the  tower  of  the  Metropolitan 
Building  now  stands,  was  as  adequate  and  as  timely  for  a 
church  as  the  site  directly  across  the  park,  where  the  "Fifth 
Avenue"  held  its  long  supremacy,  was  for  a  hotel.  Both 
caught  and  held  for  a  time  in  their  respective  ways  the 
social  tide  as  it  swept  over  Twenty-third  Street  toward  the 
north.  Madison  Square  became  at  once  one  of  the  acces- 
sible religious  centers,  which  was  to  be  repeated  later  on 
upper  Fifth  Avenue  and  later  still  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Park.  The  constituency  of  the  church  ran  from  Gramercy 
Park  and  West  Twentieth  Street  up  Fifth  and  Madison 
Avenues,  and  along  the  adjoining  streets  as  far  as  Forty- 
second  Street,  and  gradually  up  to  Central  Park.  For  this 
choice  of  its  location,  as  for  the  subsequent  management 
of  its  business  affairs,  the  church  was  indebted  to  George 
W.  Lane,  for  many  years  Comptroller  of  the  city,  and  from 
the  first  a  trustee  of  the  church,  a  man  as  well  known  and 
trusted  for  his  sagacity  as  for  his  integrity. 

I  recall  with  much  distinctness  and  even  vividness  my 
first  Sunday  in  the  Madison  Square  pulpit.  I  had  never 
seen  the  congregation  and  few  had  seen  me.  It  was  a  day 
of  first  impressions  for  minister  and  people.  As  I  faced 
the  audience  which  thronged  the  church,  I  found  myself 
steadied  and  quickened  by  the  sensitive  and  apparently 
eager  response  to  my  message.  There  were  faces  in  that 
unknown  congregation  which  made  an  immediate  and 
lasting  impress  upon  my  mind.  I  preached  from  the  text, 
"God  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living,"  — 
the  conception  of  God  as  more  vitally  concerned  with 


76  MY  GENERATION 

human  life  as  it  grew  more  absorbing  and  controlling, 
with  human  interests  as  they  multiplied  and  increased, 
with  our  individual  lives  as  they  became  capable  of  greater 
responsibilities,  or  became  weakened  and  demoralized 
under  the  strain  of  our  environment.  It  was  a  message  to 
the  modern  man  asking  where  and  how  he  might  find  God 
—  not  at  first  and  chiefly  in  the  past,  but  in  the  present, 
not  among  the  dead,  but  among  the  living.  Whatever  other 
effects  the  message  may  have  produced,  I  was  made  con- 
scious of  this  verdict,  which  was  to  me  the  most  to  be 
desired,  "You  have  made  your  connection  with  us;  we 
understand  you;  we  are  no  more  strangers." 

As  I  became  more  familiar  with  the  congregation,  I 
found  that  there  were  two  somewhat  distinct  but  not 
diverse  types  of  mind  in  their  response  to  truth.  There 
were  those  who  quickly  kindled  under  the  reception  of  it, 
and  gave  it  free  play  in  their  own  thinking,  more  affected 
by  the  quality  of  inspiration  it  might  possess  than  by  any 
logical  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  it.  Such  preeminently 
were  Professor  Roswell  D.  Hitchcock,  Judge  John  K. 
Porter,  and  Mr.  Charles  Collins,  formerly  of  Hartford, 
Connecticut,  a  genuine  disciple  of  Dr.  Bushnell.  There 
were  others  who  absorbed  the  truth  according  to  its  im- 
mediate adaptation  to  their  spiritual  needs.  The  general 
characteristic  of  the  congregation  was  its  mental  and 
spiritual  accessibility.  Individuals  and  families  came  to 
church  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  worship,  and  in  a  mood 
to  be  appreciative  of  such  further  help  as  might  be  gained 
from  the  service.  The  degree  of  this  desire  for  help  was 
unexpected.  It  was  especially  noticeable  among  men  in 
public  life  and  in  the  more  exacting  forms  of  business. 
Judge  Porter  once  remarked  to  me  that,  "Judged  by  the 


TWO  PASTORATES  77 

test  of  the  responsibilities  public  and  private  of  those  who 
attended  the  church,  there  was  no  pulpit  in  the  city  which 
had  more  direct  access  to  the  sources  of  public  welfare." 
During  my  pastorate,  two  mayors  of  the  city  were  mem- 
bers of  the  congregation.  My  personal  intimacy  with 
Mayor  Wickham  gave  me  unusual  opportunity  for  the 
knowledge  of  certain  phases  of  the  inner  as  well  as  public 
life  of  New  York.  It  was  the  consciousness  of  the  fact  to 
which  Judge  Porter  referred  that  led  me  to  give  to  my 
preaching  so  far  as  possible  the  tone  of  moral  invigoration 
and  of  spiritual  quickening.  I  recognized  the  fact,  of  course, 
and  acted  at  fit  times  upon  it,  that  the  discussion  of  public 
questions  had  a  legitimate  place  in  the  pulpit,  but  the 
essential  thing  as  it  seemed  to  me  was  to  increase  the  moral 
sensitiveness  and  to  stimulate  the  moral  purpose,  of  those 
who  had  most  to  do  with  the  intricacies  and  liabilities  of 
affairs.  And  it  was  at  this  point  that  I  found,  as  I  have 
said,  a  ready  response. 

The  same  characteristic  of  accessibility  obtained  in  all 
the  relations  to  the  people.  It  made  pastoral  duty  a 
pleasure  and  in  many  cases  a  satisfaction.  The  homes  of 
the  church  stood  open  to  one  professionally  on  the  basis 
of  personal  friendship.  And  one  could  count  upon  an  equal 
accessibility  in  discussing  measures  in  the  interest  of  the 
church,  or  in  the  solicitation  of  funds.  Quickness  of  de- 
cision and  promptness  in  action  greatly  facilitated  re- 
ligious work.  An  illustration  of  a  certain  intimacy  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  church  was  the  midweek  meeting  in  the 
vestry,  known  in  the  churches  of  the  city  as  the  "lecture- 
room."  The  name  rightly  described  the  nature  of  the  mid- 
week meeting.  It  was  not  altogether  or  chiefly  a  prayer 
meeting.  The  chief  feature  was  a  pastoral  "lecture"  or 


78  MY  GENERATION 

informal  talk  on  subjects  of  deeper  religious  import. 
The  meeting  was  largely,  at  times  very  largely,  attended 
and  allowed  the  most  direct  and  intimate  approach.  I  was 
often  surprised  to  note  the  attendance  of  those  from  the 
congregation  who  were  not  members  of  the  church,  to 
whom  the  service  seemed  to  give  spiritual  satisfaction  and 
strength. 

Naturally  the  pastoral  relations  open  the  way  into 
friendships,  and  at  times  into  intimacies  born  out  of  the 
deeper  experiences  of  life;  but  outside  these  intimacies 
and  friendships  it  also  opens  the  way  into  personal  asso- 
ciations of  a  more  or  less  intimate  character  with  men  of 
recognized  public  value.  Every  influential  church  in  New 
York  has  in  its  congregation  men  of  distinction.  The 
Madison  Square  congregation  held  not  a  few  such  men, 
some  of  whom  I  came  to  know  in  circumstances  that 
brought  out  very  clearly  the  qualities  which  gave  them 
their  place  in  the  public  thought.  I  may  fitly  refer  in  this 
connection,  for  the  impression  made  upon  my  own  mind 
by  the  extraordinary  display  of  qualities,  not  unusual  but 
perhaps  for  that  reason  more  impressive  when  exercised 
in  some  superlative  way,  to  two  men  of  the  congregation, 
Cyrus  W.  Field  and  Samuel  J.  Tilden. 

Mr.  Field  represented  in  this  superlative  way  the  type 
of  man  "who  brings  things  to  pass."  The  type  itself  was 
not  unfamiliar  in  the  period  of  material  development  fol- 
lowing the  Civil  War,  but  no  such  example  of  it  appeared 
then,  or  has  appeared  since,  as  in  the  man  who  laid  the 
Atlantic  cable.  The  original  conception  did  not  belong  to 
Mr.  Field,  but  he  alone  grasped  the  idea  with  an  unshak- 
able purpose,  and  brought  the  bold  adventure  to  reality. 
It  was  ten  years  from  the  organization  of  the  Atlantic 


TWO  PASTORATES  79 

Telegraph  Company  to  the  completion  of  the  enterprise. 
Eight  years  of  silence  intervened  between  the  broken 
message  which  passed  over  the  first  cable,  and  the  final 
accomplishment  of  unbroken  communication  between  the 
continents  —  years  of  persistent  effort,  but  of  equally 
persistent  failure,  including  bankruptcy,  but  years  clos- 
ing in  triumphant  success.  This  mastery  of  failure  was 
Mr.  Field's  distinction.  Adjectives  commonly  applied  to 
one  capable  of  this  kind  of  success  —  persistent,  indefati- 
gable, indomitable  —  do  not  define  his  capacity,  or  explain 
the  great  event  in  his  career.  Back  of  all  the  energies  of 
his  nature  was  the  faith  that  constantly  visualized  the 
end  in  view,  and  a  will  that  never  for  a  moment  lost 
control  of  the  means  for  its  attainment. 

When  I  first  knew  Mr.  Tilden,  he  was  passing  through 
the  ordeal  of  surrendering  the  Presidency  which  had 
seemed  to  be  within  his  grasp.  Out  of  one  hundred  and 
eighty-five  electoral  votes  necessary  to  a  choice  in  the 
election  of  1876,  he  held  one  hundred  and  eighty-four 
in  undisputed  right.  Of  the  votes  claimed  by  his  oppo- 
nents, nineteen  were  in  dispute,  which,  if  entirely  allowed, 
would  complete  the  number  necessary  for  a  choice. 
Eighteen  of  these  were  from  the  States  of  Louisiana, 
South  Carolina,  and  Florida,  localities  where  the  political 
atmosphere  was  charged  with  fraud,  and  one  was  from 
Oregon.  To  a  mind  like  that  of  Mr.  Tilden,  trained  to 
respect  for  constitutional  methods,  and  exercised  in  the 
detection  of  fraud  through  his  exposure  of  Tammany, 
the  resort  to  a  compromise  political  commission  to  pass 
upon  the  votes  in  dispute  seemed  a  wide  departure  from 
the  Constitution,  while  the  finding  of  the  commission 
seemed  to  him  utterly  at  variance  with  the  legal  evidence. 


80  MY  GENERATION 

Nevertheless  Mr.  Tilden  determined  to  abide  by  the  de- 
cision of  the  commission,  and  forbade  his  friends  and  his 
party  to  resist.  His  conduct  was  a  most  remarkable  ex- 
hibition of  self-control,  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  in 
the  political  history  of  the  nation,  undemonstrative,  but 
wonderfully  impressive.  As  I  saw  what  it  meant  to  him 
and  realized  its  meaning  to  the  country  in  the  crisis  through 
which  it  was  passing,  I  understood  the  recorded  wisdom 
of  the  old-time  moralist,  "Better  is  he  that  ruleth  his 
spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  When  I  went  back  some 
six  years  after  leaving  New  York  to  conduct  the  services 
at  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Tilden  at  his  country  home  at  Gray- 
stone-on-the-Hudson,  I  was  impressed  with  the  sincerity 
of  the  homage  paid  to  him  by  the  vast  company  of  public 
men  there  assembled,  from  President  Cleveland  and  his 
immediate  associates  to  the  eminent  citizens  of  the  city 
and  of  the  State. 

Of  the  men  with  whom  I  came  into  professional  as  well 
as  personal  relation,  no  one  awakened  so  deep  an  affection 
or  exerted  so  great  an  influence  over  me  as  Roswell  D. 
Hitchcock,  to  whom  I  have  already  referred  as  a  member 
of  the  congregation.  Dr.  Hitchcock  was  a  man  of  wide 
and  genuine  learning,  but  still  more  remarkable  for  his 
mental  and  spiritual  insight.  He  saw  religious  truth  in 
clear  perspective  and  in  just  proportion.  As  a  church  his- 
torian he  knew  and  honored  the  historic  Church,  but  he 
lived  in  the  full  freedom  of  the  spirit.  His  independence 
could  rise,  if  there  was  occasion,  into  courage.  He  was 
broadly  and  fearlessly  progressive.  Personally  he  was 
capable  of  sharing  the  riches  of  his  mind  and  heart.  His 
friendship  had  the  reality  and  the  charm  of  intimacy. 
Though  several  years  my  senior  he  never  allowed  the  inter- 


TWO  PASTORATES  81 

vening  years  or  the  wisdom  for  which  these  stood,  to  create 
the  slightest  impression  of  conscious  superiority.  He  was 
to  me  a  most  lovable  man,  not  in  spite  of  his  great  intel- 
lectual gifts,  but  because  of  them.  I  felt  whenever  I  talked 
with  him  that  I  had  access  to  the  whole  man.  It  was  to  me 
of  great  significance  in  the  following  years  that  this  in- 
timacy of  personal  friendship  was  in  no  sense  dependent 
on  frequent  contact.  The  letters  which  came  to  me  at 
Andover  until  his  death  bore  the  marks  of  the  same  rare 
and  quickening  friendship. 

Professional  intimacies  were  furthered  by  a  semi-social 
and  religious  club  known  as  Chi  Alpha,  composed  of  lead- 
ing ministers,  professors,  and  journalists  from  affiliated 
churches.  It  met  every  Saturday  evening  and  preserved 
its  social  character  by  meeting  in  the  homes  of  its  mem- 
bers. 

It  frequently  entertained  distinguished  visitors  from 
abroad.  At  that  period  —  among  the  seventies  —  the  re- 
ception of  churchmen,  like  Dean  Stanley  and  Canon 
Farrar,  Dr.  Parker,  of  the  City  Temple,  London,  Dr. 
Dale,  of  Birmingham,  and  various  Scotch  leaders,  was 
more  frequent  and  more  natural  than  that  of  literary  men. 
The  visit  of  Dickens,  and  Thackeray,  and  even  of  Matthew 
Arnold,  had  somewhat  the  aspect  of  a  commercial  ad- 
venture. The  visits  of  these  and  like  guests  were  seldom 
disconnected  from  lecturing  tours.  Chi  Alpha  was  one  of 
the  oldest  of  the  professional  clubs  of  the  city,  having 
been  founded  in  1828. 

The  following  letter,  written  to  the  Secretary  on  the 
occasion  of  the  eighty-sixth  anniversary  of  the  Club, 
gives  a  glimpse  of  the  ordinary  meetings  at  the  time  of 
my  active  membership: 


82  MY  GENERATION 

November  25,  1914 
Dear  Dr.  Webster: 

In  response  to  your  invitation,  I  send  you  greetings  from  the 
Chi  Alpha  of  thirty -five  to  forty  years  ago.  Possibly  some  of  the 
original  members  were  living  at  that  time,  but  I  have  no  re- 
membrance of  any  known  as  such.  One  of  the  early  habits  of 
the  society,  which  I  see  by  your  present  order  of  exercises  has 
been  discontinued,  was  then  in  force  —  supper  was  served  then 
as  now  at  six  o'clock,  but  it  was  put  between  the  social  hour 
and  the  hour  or  evening  of  discussion.  I  suppose  that  this  was 
a  survival  of  the  state  of  mind  which  gave  us  in  its  time  the 
"New  York  Observer"  in  two  well-separated  compartments. 
The  social  hour  was  the  hour  of  the  wits  and  the  story-tellers. 
Dr.  Irenaeus  Prime  was  by  far  the  most  delightful  story-teller, 
though  perhaps  Dr.  Rogers,  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  on 
Twenty-first  Street,  was  the  sharper  wit.  I  recall  the  beginning 
of  one  of  Dr.  Prime's  stories,  which  promised  to  be  one  of  his 
best,  but  which  never  came  to  a  conclusion.  Dr.  Prime  had 
reached  the  point  where  he  had  introduced  the  man's  mother- 
in-law,  when,  yielding  to  the  temptation  to  play  with  his  story, 
he  remarked  by  way  of  parenthesis  —  "It  was  his  mother-in- 
law  by  marriage."  "Oh,"  said  Dr.  Rogers,  "a  new  kind."  The 
story,  as  I  have  said,  was  never  finished.  Chi  Alpha  was  abund- 
antly satisfied  with  the  discovery  of  a  new  way  of  establishing 
this  domestic  relationship. 

The  most  serious  discussion  in  Chi  Alpha  which  I  remember 
started  from  an  incidental  statement  by  Professor  Shedd  — 
"God  must  be  just,  He  may  be  merciful."  The  statement  in- 
stantly aroused  much  feeling,  which  was  intensified  by  a  subse- 
quent remark  of  Dr.  Chambers,  contrasting  the  depth  of  the 
mind  of  St.  Paul  with  that  of  the  Apostle  John.  Any  one  who 
may  have  known  Dr.  Prentiss  and  his  passionate  feeling  toward 
the  Apostle  John  can  understand  how  such  a  comparison  would 
strike  his  sensitive  and  chivalrous  nature.  I  think  that  I  never 
saw  Chi  Alpha  thrown  into  the  like  intellectual  commotion.  The 
discussion  thus  started  ran  through  three  or  four  consecutive 
meetings.  I  am  quite  sure  that  my  old  neighbor  and  friend,  Dr. 


TWO  PASTORATES  83 

Vincent,  will  recall  the  discussion,  as  we  commented  on  it  each 
evening  on  our  way  home.  As  I  mention  some  of  those  who  car- 
ried on  the  discussion  you  will  have  little  difficulty,  even  at  this 
time,  in  arranging  them  according  to  their  theological  sympa- 
thies —  Dr.  William  M.  Paxton,  Dr.  Howard  Crosby,  Professors 
Schaff  and  Hitchcock,  Dr.  Adams,  Dr.  Hall,  Dr.  William  M. 
Taylor,  Dr.  George  B.  Cheever,  and  Dr.  Cuyler.  It  goes  without 
saying  that  the  five-minute  limit  in  debate  was  not  then  in  vogue. 
The  discussion  was  closed  with  a  paper  of  remarkable  lucidity, 
by  Dr.  Prentiss,  on  the  question,  "What  is  fundamental  in  the 
nature  of  God?"  Some  years  afterwards  I  tried  to  get  the  paper 
for  publication  in  the  "Andover  Review,"  but  Dr.  Prentiss  felt 
that  it  was  too  vitally  related  to  the  discussion  to  warrant  its 
publication,  so  far  removed  from  its  original  motive  and  en- 
vironment. 

I  beg  you  to  tender  my  affectionate  greetings  to  the  present 
members  of  Chi  Alpha,  many  of  whom  I  knew  in  those  earlier 
days  of  our  fellowship,  and  others  of  whom  I  know  in  ways  of 
personal  friendship. 
I  am 

Most  cordially  and  fraternally  yours 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

To  the  Rev.  George  S.  Webster,  D.D. 
Secretary  of  Chi  Alpha 

Notwithstanding  the  wide  range  of  personal  associa- 
tions incident  to  a  New  York  pastorate,  and  the  inspiring 
opportunity  which  it  offers  through  the  pulpit,  it  has  its 
sharp  limitations.  These  limitations  are  largely  the  result 
of  the  physical  conditions  which  determine  the  social  life 
of  the  city.  The  configuration  of  the  city  virtually  classifies 
its  population  socially.  It  divides  the  Protestant  popula- 
tion between  church  and  chapel.  A  certain  segregation  is 
enforced  through  residence.  Class  and  neighborhood  are 
synonymous  terms  in  defining  the  church  relations  of  a 
family.  The  distinction  goes  deeper.  It  classifies  the  moral 


84  MY  GENERATION 

and  spiritual  experiences  of  those  living  under  these  dif- 
ferent conditions.  The  burdens,  the  temptations,  and 
many  of  the  sorrows  of  the  poor  are  not  those  of  the  rich. 
This  exclusion  of  poverty  with  its  attendant  evils  from 
homes  in  the  distinctively  church  localities  creates  a  re- 
stricted field  of  pastoral  service,  and  puts  the  special 
work  of  what  is  known  as  "social  service"  at  a  second 
remove  from  the  pastorate.  I  am  well  aware,  in  saying 
this,  of  the  liability  of  a  "break"  in  the  environment 
which  may  cause  a  sudden  inflow  of  the  turbid  stream 
of  the  outer  life  into  the  more  protected  regions.  It  was 
just  such  a  break  in  the  environment  of  the  Madison 
Square  Church,  which  Dr.  Parkhurst  records  in  "Our 
Fight  with  Tammany"  (pp.  4,  5),  that  led  him  to  assume 
the  presidency  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Crime 
and  to  carry  on  his  masterly  campaign  against  the  organ- 
ized and  officially  supported  vice  of  the  city.  And  yet  how 
exceptional  and  almost  casual  this  splendid  service  appears 
from  his  reference  to  the  pastoral  incident  which  gave  rise 
to  it.  "Somewhat  prior  to  my  first  connection  with  the 
Society,  I  had  become  knowing  to  a  condition  of  things 
throughout  the  city  of  which  during  all  the  years  of  my 
residence  in  town  up  to  that  date  I  had  been  ignorant,  and 
of  which,  except  for  a  special  cause,  I  should  probably 
have  continued  ignorant." 

A  further  limitation  upon  the  continuous  power  of  the 
average  pastorate  lies  in  the  impermanency  of  the  local 
church  life  of  the  city.  This  limitation  is  due  to  the  same 
general  cause  as  the  social  segregation  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred. Owing  to  the  rapid  movement  of  the  church  pop- 
ulation within  the  narrow  limits  fixed  by  the  configuration 
of  the  city,  a  church  can  hardly  expect  really  to  command 


TWO  PASTORATES  85 

a  given  locality  for  more  than  a  generation;  that  is,  a  gen- 
eration represents  the  ordinary  allowance  of  time  between 
the  taking  of  a  favorable  location  at  the  flood  tide,  and 
the  ebb  tide  which  leaves  the  church  to  struggle  with  the 
decline  in  numbers  and  finally  to  succumb  to  it.  The  Mad- 
ison Square  Church  occupied  Madison  Square  in  185^.  In 
1906  it  had  become  necessary  to  take  into  serious  consid- 
eration the  question  of  removal.  A  bold  attempt  was  made 
to  retain  its  site  on  the  Square  by  taking  advantage  of  a 
favorable  offer  of  purchase  by  the  Metropolitan  Life  In- 
surance Company,  which  had  crowded  the  church  to  a 
corner  in  the  enclosure  of  its  own  building,  and  by  building 
a  unique  and  most  attractive  church  edifice  on  the  op- 
posite corner  of  Twenty-fourth  Street.1  The  attempt,  how- 
ever, has  not  enabled  the  church  to  hold  the  site.  As  I  am 
now  writing  (1918)  a  plan  is  under  way  for  effecting  a 
consolidation  of  the  Presbyterian  churches  in  proximity 
to  one  another  below  Thirty-fourth  Street,  —  the  Old 
First  Church  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Eleventh  Street,  the 
University  Place  Church,  and  the  Madison  Square  Church. 
Owing  to  the  effect  of  the  recent  act  for  "zoning"  the  city, 
a  new  permanency  has  been  given  to  the  residential  region 
around  Washington  Square  and  lower  Fifth  Avenue,  as 
against  the  region  about  Madison  Square.  Should  the  pro- 
posed plan  be  carried  out,  as  now  seems  probable,  the 
new  Madison  Square  Church  will  be  sold,  and  the  church 
itself  will  survive  only  as  a  component  part  of  an  im- 
pressive consolidation,  especially  of  church  property  and 
endowments  —  a  fate  on  the  whole  insuring  more  per- 
manency than  usually  befalls  a  New  York  church  in  an 

1  The  original  church  was  by  Upjohn,  of  Gothic  design;  the  new  church,  by 
McKim,  Mead  &  White,  the  main  features  of  which  are  a  "bold  portico  and 
front  and  a  dome." 


86  MY  GENERATION 

attempt  at  continuous  separate  existence.  (Since  the  above 
was  written  this  consolidation  has  actually  taken  place 
and  the  sale  of  the  Madison  Square  Church  edifice  has 
been  effected.)  The  identity  of  the  local  church  in  the  city 
has  thus  far  been  best  preserved  under  the  Episcopal  sys- 
tem of  supervision,  or  under  the  collegiate  system  con- 
trolling certain  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  churches  sup- 
ported by  original  land  grants.  Presbyterianism  has  hardly 
proved  equal  to  this  perpetuation  of  the  life  of  the  local 
church.  It  was  a  favorite  theory  of  Mr.  George  W.  Lane, 
of  the  Madison  Square  Church,  that  a  strong  church 
should  select,  in  advance  of  any  sign  of  decline,  a  location 
to  which  it  might  in  due  time  remove,  while  yet  in  its 
strength  able  also  to  maintain  by  endowment  and  annual 
allowance  the  position  from  which  the  main  church  had 
advanced.  A  line  of  church  holdings  would  thus  be 
established,  following  the  succession  prescribed  by  the 
peculiar  configuration  of  the  city. 

In  the  spring  of  1879,  in  the  fifth  year  of  my  pastorate, 
I  received  an  invitation  to  the  chair  of  Homiletics  in 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  the  invitation  having  in 
view  the  further  object  of  my  taking  part  in  the  recon- 
struction of  the  Seminary  then  impending.  Three  years 
before  I  had  been  asked  by  Dr.  Edmund  R.  Peaslee,  of 
New  York,  and  Governor  Cheney,  of  New  Hampshire, 
representing  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College,  if  I 
would  consider  an  invitation  to  the  presidency  of  the 
college.  As  I  had  then  been  so  little  time  in  the  pastorate 
of  the  church,  and  as  the  educational  work  proposed  was 
at  a  second  remove  at  least  from  the  specific  work  of  the 
ministry,  I  declined  the  proposal,  little  foreseeing,  how- 
ever, that  fifteen  years  later  I  should  be  brought  to  this 


TWO  PASTORATES  87 

position  by  way  of  Andover.  The  invitation  to  the  chair 
at  Andover  raised  at  once,  and  in  its  broad  aspects,  the 
question  of  the  relative  significance  under  the  conditions 
then  existing  of  the  pastoral  and  the  educational  branches 
of  service  in  the  ministry.  It  was  to  me  a  very  serious 
question,  becoming  more  serious  the  more  I  considered  it. 
I  had  become  directly  interested  in  the  aims  and  problems 
of  young  men  studying  for  the  ministry,  through  the 
attendance  of  many  of  the  students  of  Union  Theolog- 
ical Seminary  at  the  Madison  Square  Church.  But  the 
large,  and  as  it  proved  to  be  the  determining,  factor  in  the 
ultimate  decision  was  my  conviction  that  the  more  im- 
portant issues  which  were  to  affect  the  ministry  and  the 
Church  lay  within  the  sphere  of  education.  In  the  midst 
of  the  experiences  attending  the  discharge  of  pastoral 
duties,  and  more  particularly  in  the  midst  of  the  daily 
studies  in  preparation  for  the  pulpit,  questions  would 
arise  out  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  changes  taking 
place  in  the  new  world  of  thought  and  action  for  which 
little  time  could  be  found  for  any  satisfying  answer.  It  was 
evident  that  a  process  of  reconstruction  was  going  on  in 
which,  if  one  was  to  take  part  at  all,  he  must  have  a  place 
nearer  the  sources.  And  the  necessity  for  the  closer  range 
of  thought  was  equally  apparent,  whether  one  considered 
the  critical  or  the  social  questions  which  were  fast  becom- 
ing the  problems  of  modern  Christianity.  It  was  under 
this  conviction  of  the  need  of  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
distinctive  religious  issues  of  the  time,  and  in  the  hope  of 
accomplishing  the  larger  service  for  the  ministry  through 
those  who  were  entering,  or  who  might  be  led  to  enter  it, 
that  I  decided  to  exchange  the  pastorate  for  the  pro- 
fessorship to  which  I  was  called.  In  the  view  which  I  took 


88  MY  GENERATION 

of  the  religious  situation  the  step  from  the  church  to  the 
Seminary  was  a  forward  step  —  my  response  to  the  de- 
mand of  religious  progress. 

The  changes  necessitated  by  this  decision  could  not  be 
carried  out  without  much  occasion  for  sincere  regret,  and 
at  certain  points  without  a  very  definite  sense  of  loss. 
There  was  the  surrender  of  the  pastorate  with  its  incen- 
tives to  spiritual  activities;  there  was  the  separation  from 
the  church,  in  itself  a  painful  process,  intensified  by  the 
reluctance  of  the  church  to  accept  my  resignation;  *  and 

1  Among  the  notices  of  the  press  in  regard  to  the  resignation  from  the  Madison 
Square  Church,  the  following  report  of  the  meeting  attending  the  acceptance  of 
the  resignation  is  taken  from  the  New  York  Tribune  under  date  of  October  9, 
1879: 

"At  a  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  Madison  Square  Presbyterian  Church 
last  evening,  the  resignation  of  their  pastor,  the  Reverend  W.  J.  Tucker,  D.D., 
who  has  received  a  call  to  the  Bartlett  Professorship  of  Preaching  at  Andover 
Theological  Seminary,  was  tendered  and  accepted.  There  was  a  large  number 
present.  Dr.  Tucker,  in  offering  his  resignation,  remarked  that  it  was  already 
well  known  to  them  all  that  he  had  had  under  very  serious  thought  during  the 
summer  the  question  of  a  change  from  the  pastorate  to  work  for  the  ministry. 
He  said  that  the  ministry  in  its  claims  ought  to  have  a  wider  hearing  among 
young  men.  The  great  increase  in  the  means  of  moral  influence  demanded  this. 
'We  seem  about  to  enter,  in  religious  life  and  thought,'  he  added,  'upon  a  period 
of  great  constructive  energy.  I  believe  that  we  have  before  us  a  season,  not  of 
contention  or  of  apology,  but  of  growth  and  construction.  .  .  .  However  reluc- 
tant, therefore,  one  might  otherwise  be  to  listen  to  this  call,  he  cannot  deny  the 
claims  of  its  timeliness.  And  it  is  only  for  such  reasons  as  these,  which  but  partly 
express  my  own  convictions,  that  I  can  bring  myself  to  ask  you  for  your  consent 
to  my  entering  upon  this  work,  and  to  request,  as  I  do  now,  that  you  will  accept 
my  resignation  in  the  pastorate  of  this  church.' 

"Dr.  Tucker  closed  his  address  with  some  words  of  deep  feeling  upon  the  cor- 
dial relations  which  had  existed  between  his  church  and  himself.  George  W.  Lane 
was  then  made  chairman  of  the  meeting  and  Charles  H.  Woodbury  secretary. 
Resolutions  were  adopted  expressing  deep  regret  at  Dr.  Tucker's  leaving  the 
pastorate,  and  speaking  of  his  work  and  his  personal  qualities  in  the  highest 
terms. 

"  Remarks  were  then  made  by  the  Reverend  William  Adams,  D.D.,  first  pastor 
of  the  church,  the  Reverend  Roswell  D.  Hitchcock,  D.D.,  the  Honorable  William 
E.  Dodge,  and  Professor  Theodore  W.  Dwight. 

"Dr.  Adams  said  that  he  concurred  most  heartily  in  the  resolutions.  He  could 
sympathize  with  Dr.  Tucker  in  his  request,  for  he  had  once  taken  a  similar  step. 
His  personal  relations  with  Dr.  Tucker  had  been  peculiarly  pleasant. 


TWO  PASTORATES  89 

there  was  the  sundering  of  many  ties  of  personal  and 
family  friendships;  to  which  I  may  properly  add  my  regret 
in  leaving  New  York.  There  was  a  sincerity  in  its  social 
life  which  could  be  felt.  Deeper  by  far  than  its  power  to 
fascinate  was  its  power  to  awaken  affection.  I  had  never 
been  unmindful  of  my  attachment  to  New  York  since  I 
first  knew  it,  but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  feeling 
awakened  in  me  by  a  personal  incident  which  occurred 
some  years  ago  in  passing  through  the  city.  I  had  but  an 
hour  between  trains,  but  as  I  passed  from  one  station  to 
another  I  took  my  way  by  the  church.  It  was  partly  torn 
down  to  make  place  for  the  tower  of  the  Metropolitan 
Building.  This  I  had  anticipated.  But  on  going  up  Park 
Avenue  to  No.  57,  my  old  home,  I  found  that  this  also, 
with  two  adjacent  houses,  was  in  ruins  through  a  caving-in 
of  the  street  incident  to  the  excavation  for  a  tunnel.  Thus 
dispossessed  of  my  personal  holdings  in  the  city,  though 
held  only  by  the  title  of  sentiment,  there  came  upon  me  a 
sudden  but  veritable  attack  of  homesickness,  that  unmis- 
takable mark  of  local  affection. 

"  Dr.  Hitchcock  said  that  he  did  not  believe  that  there  was  a  person  in  the  con- 
gregation who  would  not  say  farewell  in  great  bitterness  of  personal  bereavement 
and  sense  of  loss.  He  had  advised  Dr.  Tucker  to  go,  because  he  thought  he  would 
serve  his  generation  more  in  giving  to  the  world  thirty  or  forty  Christian  minis- 
ters each  year  than  by  remaining  in  the  most  successful  pulpit. 

"  Mr.  Dodge  said  that  he  felt  that  he  had  lost  the  presence  of  a  personal  friend 
which  could  not  be  replaced.  He  hoped  Dr.  Tucker's  influence  would  long  remain 
in  the  church,  but  the  bereavement  at  this  parting  was  very  great. 

"Judge  Theodore  Dwight  remarked  that  the  announcement  of  Dr.  Tucker's 
resignation  came  upon  him  like  a  thunderclap.  He  could  say  with  all  the  warmth 
possible  that  he  sincerely  deplored  the  loss  which  the  church  sustained." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT  IN  THEOLOGY 

I  have  said  that  one  of  the  chief  motives  for  leaving  the 
pastorate  to  enter  upon  the  educational  work  of  the  min- 
istry was  the  desire  to  study  more  closely  into  some  of  the 
questions  which  were  becoming  the  problems  of  modern 
Christianity.  Of  course  the  large  and  inclusive  question 
was  that  of  the  effect  of  the  impact  of  the  modern  world 
upon  historic  Christianity.  Would  it  detach  Christianity 
from  its  own  past?  The  answer  to  this  question  had 
already  been  made  decisively  in  the  negative  by  both 
branches  of  the  Christian  Church,  but  their  answers  dif- 
fered. Although  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  had  not 
then  pronounced  officially  upon  those  tendencies  in  mod- 
ern thought  which  were  afterwards  to  be  anathematized 
under  the  term  "modernism,"  its  attitude  of  resistance 
was  unmistakable.  The  attitude  of  the  Protestant  churches 
varied  from  that  of  suspicion,  or  open  resistance,  to  that 
of  investigation,  and  in  some  cases  of  immediate  hospital- 
ity. The  Protestant  mind  which  was  most  distinctively 
Protestant  was  from  the  first  sympathetic  with  modern 
thought,  and  it  proved  to  be  the  controlling  element  in 
the  various  churches.  It  was  able  to  withstand  if  not  al- 
ways to  arrest  reactionary  tendencies.  It  was  also  able  to 
influence  the  modernizing  process  to  such  a  degree  that  it 
did  not  become  revolutionary  or  merely  divisive.  It  gave 
rise  to  no  new  sects  or  denominations.  It  was  carried  on 
in  all  the  existing  denominations  with  more  or  less  sharp- 
ness of  controversy,  but  nowhere  to  the  breaking  point. 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT         91 

The  term  which  best  expressed  the  character  of  this 
modernizing  process  as  it  went  on  in  the  churches  was  the 
term  "progressive."  It  was,  in  fact,  actually  in  use  as  a 
theological  term  long  before  it  found  so  conspicuous  a 
place  in  politics.  In  1885,  a  series  of  editorial  articles  ap- 
peared in  the  "Andover  Review,  "  which  were  published 
the  following  year  in  a  book  under  the  title  of  "Pro- 
gressive Orthodoxy."  The  part  of  the  title  which  seemed 
to  the  authors  of  the  book  to  call  for  explanation  was  the 
term  "orthodoxy."  They  put  this  term  forward  in  protest 
or  challenge  against  the  exclusive  claim  to  progress  in 
behalf  of  heresy  or  schism.  They  said  in  the  introduction: 
"We  are  not  insensible  to  the  reality  and  worth  of  char- 
acter in  the  sphere  of  thought.  .  .  .  The  word  'orthodox' 
designates  theological  character.  .  .  .  There  is  a  collective 
and  a  continuous  Christian  consciousness.  Our  recognition 
of  this  relation  of  the  new  to  the  old  is  expressed  in  our 
motto,  '  Progressive  Orthodoxy.'  " 

The  progressive  movement  covered  three  distinct 
though  related  forms  of  investigation  and  research  —  the 
technically  theological,  having  to  do  with  the  method  of 
the  Divine  working  in  and  through  nature;  the  critical, 
employed  upon  the  Scriptures  and  the  early  Christian 
literature;  the  humanistic,  concerned  with  the  problems  of 
human  environment  and  human  destiny.  It  was  this  last 
subject  of  investigation  and  inquiry  upon  which  my  own 
personal  and  professional  interest  centered.  However,  I 
trace  briefly  the  course  followed  in  each  section  of  the  pro- 
gressive movement,  though  in  so  doing  I  anticipate  some- 
what the  results  gained.  It  will  thus  become  evident  that 
the  claim  in  its  behalf  at  the  first  was  justified  —  that  the 
movement  was  not  revolutionary  but  progressive. 


92  MY  GENERATION 

The  first  effect  of  the  progressive  departure  in  the  field 
of  strictly  theological  inquiry  was  to  bring  about  a  change 
in  the  prevailing  conception  of  God.  It  changed  the  em- 
phasis from  the  thought  of  His  transcendence  to  that  of 
His  immanence.  The  conception  of  God  must  be  affected 
by  the  advance  in  our  understanding  of  nature.  As  an 
English  churchman  of  the  evolutionary  school  has  re- 
cently said  —  "We  found  that  when  'all  creation  wid- 
ened on  man's  view'  our  souls  widened  and  deepened  in 
response;  Nature  was  a  vaster  home  for  man,  but  man 
was  more  at  home  in  it  not  less  but  more."1  In  this  sense 
true  scientific  progress  is  always  reflected  in  theological 
progress.  The  scientific  advance  from  Newton  to  Darwin 
presupposed  a  corresponding  theological  advance.  The- 
ology could  not  accept  and  appropriate,  as  in  the  astro- 
nomical discourses  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  the  science  of  as- 
tronomy, and  ignore  or  dispute  the  new  science  of  biology. 
If  the  one  science  seemed  to  make  God  greater  in  the 
sphere  of  His  working,  it  was  reasonable  to  expect  that  the 
other  science  would  bring  Him  nearer  in  His  work,  and 
into  more  intimate  relations  with  the  physical  conditions 
of  human  life.  If  the  one  science  proclaimed  the  tran- 
scendence of  God,  the  other,  it  might  be  assumed  with 
equal  certainty  when  once  it  had  wrought  out  its  sure 
conclusions,  would  reveal  God  as  immanent,  a  pervasive 
presence  in  the  universe,  acting  through  agencies  and 
under  laws  beneficent  in  their  purpose. 

I  think  that  biological  research  has  already  passed  the 
stage  of  emphasis  upon  the  immoral  or  unmoral  "struggle 
for  existence,"  and  has  begun  to  show  that  the  evolution- 
ary process  as  applied  to  the  lower  forms  of  life  has  an 

1  The  Spectator,  January  19,  1918,  p.  56. 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT         93 

ethical  significance  in  the  fact  that  its  cardinal  principle 
is  not  destructive  but  constructive,  working  through  the 
method  of  social  cooperation.  "Altruism,"  says  Professor 
Vernon  Kellogg,  of  Leland  Stanford,  reviewing  a  dis- 
cussion with  a  German  biologist  at  German  Headquarters,1 
"  or  mutual  aid,  as  the  biologists  prefer  to  call  it,  to  escape 
the  implication  of  assuming  too  much  consciousness  in  it, 
is  just  as  truly  a  fundamental  biologic  factor  of  evolu- 
tion as  is  the  cruel,  strictly  self-regarding,  exterminating 
kind  of  struggle  for  existence  with  which  the  Neo-Dar- 
winists  try  to  fill  our  eyes  and  ears,  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
recognition  of  all  other  factors."  Still  more  explicit  is  the 
contention  of  Dr.  William  Patten,  of  the  chair  of  Zoology, 
Dartmouth,  in  a  monograph  on  "  Cooperation  as  a  Factor 
in  Evolution": 2 

When  we  realize  that  evolution  is  the  summation  of  power 
through  cooperation,  that  what  we  call  "evil"  is  that  which 
prevents  or  destroys  cooperation,  and  "good"  is  that  which  per- 
petuates and  improves  cooperation;  when  we  realize  that  the 
"struggle  for  existence"  is  a  struggle  to  find  better  ways  and 
means  of  cooperation,  and  the  "fittest"  is  the  one  that  cooper- 
ates best  —  we  shall  then  realize  that  science  and  religion  and 
government  stand  on  common  ground  and  have  a  common  pur- 
pose. Until  this  basic  truth  is  recognized  there  can  be  no  common 
goal  for  intellectual  endeavor;  no  common  rules  for  individual 
and  social  conduct;  no  common  standard  of  what  is  right  and 
what  is  wrong;  and  no  common  knowledge  of  that  which  creates 
and  preserves  and  that  which  destroys.  .  .  .  The  extent  to  which 
cooperation  is  attained  depends  on  the  extent  to  which  "right- 
eousness" is  attained;  for  cooperation  cannot  take  place  except 
the  right  things  are  brought  into  a  definite  time  and  space  rela- 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  1917. 

2  Reprinted  from  the  Proceedings  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  vol. 
lv,  1916. 


94  MY  GENERATION 

tion  to  one  another.  The  chief  service  of  cooperative  action, 
therefore,  consists  in  the  conveyance  of  the  right  kinds  of  power 
to  the  right  times  and  places  for  further  cooperative  action. 

I  think  it  may  be  said  that  to  the  degree  in  which  scien- 
tists and  theologians  have  entered  upon  constructive 
work  in  their  respective  fields,  there  has  been  a  marked 
decrease  in  agnosticism.  Not  only  has  a  different  temper 
of  mind  been  created,  but  results  which  can  be  mutually 
recognized  have  been  secured.  The  so-called  conflict  of 
science  and  religion  is  a  conflict  among  the  uncertainties 
created  by  new  conditions,  which  relaxes  if  it  does  not 
disappear,  as  the  things  in  dispute  emerge  into  the  light  of 
clear  definition. 

The  most  sensitive  feature  of  the  progressive  movement, 
viewed  in  its  effect  upon  the  religious  mind,  was  the  appli- 
cation of  the  principles  of  historical  criticism  to  the  Bible. 
Here  lay  the  severest  test  of  its  spiritual  value.  There 
were  definite  reasons  for  this  sensitiveness  regarding  the 
treatment  of  the  Scriptures.  The  Bible  wTas  throughout  the 
Protestant  churches  the  recognized  source  of  authority, 
not  only  so  recognized  but  cherished  with  affection  and 
pride.  There  was  no  outward  reason  for  revolt  against  its 
authority  as  there  was  against  that  of  the  Church,  for 
the  authority  was  self-imposed.  And  the  danger  from  the 
revolt  of  reason  was  well-nigh  removed  by  the  allowance 
of  perfect  freedom  of  private  interpretation.  The  one  point 
of  common  insistence  was  its  infallibility,  which  in  the 
popular  understanding  and  acceptance  meant  the  equal 
authority  of  the  Bible  in  all  its  parts  from  cover  to  cover. 

Furthermore,  the  Bible  had  acquired  a  distinct  and 
peculiar  sacredness  from  its  history.  It  was  the  book  of 
the  martyrs  and  heroes  of  the  protesting  faiths.  Men  had 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT        95 

suffered  and  died  that  it  might  be  free,  unbound,  eman- 
cipated from  all  ecclesiastical  control.  It  had  thus  gained 
a  sanctity  from  its  associations  almost  equal  to  that  in- 
herent in  its  words.  And  to  this  historic  sanctity  was 
added  the  sentiment  attaching  to  its  use  from  generation 
to  generation  at  the  family  altar,  and  in  the  closet  of 
devotion.  For  all  devotional  uses  Bacon  has  said,  "those 
doctrines  (are)  best  and  sweetest  which  flow  from  a  gentle 
crush  of  the  Scriptures,"  not  from  the  too  severe  pressure 
of  analysis. 

But  the  Bible  has  its  place  in  a  world  of  facts,  and  in 
this  world  it  can  hold  its  place  only  by  conforming  to  the 
established  rules  of  evidence.  It  was  difficult  for  many 
minds  to  accept  so  simple  but  so  sweeping  a  conclusion. 
It  was  hard  for  them  to  acknowledge  that  faith,  like 
poetry  according  to  Robert  Frost,  "must  lean  hard  on 
facts,  so  hard  at  times,  that  they  hurt."  Without  doubt 
faith  under  the  pressure  of  modern  criticism  was  forced 
to  lean  hard  upon  facts,  so  hard  that  they  did  hurt.  It 
would  be  as  unintelligent  as  it  would  be  unfeeling  to 
overlook  or  make  light  of  the  pain  which  the  critical 
handling  of  the  Scriptures  brought  to  many  devout  and 
intelligent  believers.  But  as  the  results  of  Biblical  crit- 
icism have  become  evident,  the  gain  to  faith  has  also 
become  evident.  It  is  with  no  little  spiritual  satisfaction 
that  we  now  see  that  Protestantism  has  in  hand  a  Bible 
which  it  can  hold  in  consistency  with  its  own  well-defined 
principles.  A  Bible  exempted  from  the  tests  of  historical 
criticism  would  not  have  been  a  Protestant  Bible.  Few 
will  now  deny  the  inconsistency  of  affirming  the  right  of 
private  judgment  in  respect  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
Scriptures,  while  at  the  same  time  forbidding  the  exercise 


96  MY  GENERATION 

of  this  right  in  the  investigation  of  their  origin  and  his- 
torical order.  From  the  Protestant  point  of  view,  it  must 
be  as  necessary  to  ask  what  the  Bible  is  and  how  it  came 
to  be,  as  to  ask  what  it  means.  It  is  also  beginning  to  be 
understood  that  we  are  indebted  to  the  historical  criticism 
of  the  Bible  for  a  clearer  perspective  of  revealed  truth. 
The  progressive  nature  of  revelation  has  been  determined 
and  established  by  the  knowledge  of  the  periods  of  pro- 
gress, and  of  the  persons  and  instrumentalities  made  use 
of  for  the  disclosure  and  outworking  of  the  Divine  plan. 
And  a  further  gain  is  beginning  to  be  felt,  even  more 
clearly  than  it  can  be  seen,  in  the  growing  sense  of  the 
unity  of  the  Church.  So  long  as  the  Protestant  mind  was 
in  bondage  to  the  literalism  of  the  Scriptures,  it  was  fruit- 
ful in  divisions  and  subdivisions  of  the  Church.  Protestant- 
ism had  become  in  too  large  a  degree  the  religion  of  the 
sects.  It  lacked  that  freedom  and  confidence  and  power 
which  can  come  only  from  the  sense  of  the  wholeness  of 
Christianity.  Historical  criticism  did  more  than  any  other 
one  thing  to  relegate  the  separating  tenets  of  the  sects  to 
their  proper  place.  The  new  conception  of  the  Bible  has 
already  given  a  new  conception  of  Christianity,  larger, 
simpler,  and  more  unifying. 

The  distinctive  characteristic  of  the  progressive  move- 
ment, though  in  some  respects  the  least  capable  of  defini- 
tion, was  its  humanistic  impulse.  It  carried  religion,  and 
even  theology,  farther  out  into  human  relations.  It  took 
account  of  the  individual  in  his  human  environment.  It 
viewed  him  more  definitely  as  a  social  being,  a  part  of  a 
vast  but  closely  fitting  social  organization.  It  followed 
him  into  those  classifications  into  which  modern  society 
had  divided  itself,  chiefly  as  the  result  of  the  new  economic 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT         97 

conditions.  It  refused  to  obey  the  mandate  of  the  old 
political  economy,  and  leave  the  individual  to  the  fortune 
of  the  market-place.  It  assumed  the  right  to  know  the 
reason,  for  example,  of  the  contentions  of  capital  and 
labor,  and  the  right  no  less  to  take  part  in  the  whole 
economic  conflict  according  to  its  social  significance.  The 
movement  early  acquired  the  name  of  social  Christianity. 

There  was  in  this  projection  of  religion  into  the  new 
relations  and  conditions  of  modern  society,  no  such  dis- 
turbance of  religious  faith  as  was  caused  by  the  applica- 
tion of  the  critical  method  to  the  Bible.  But  it  disturbed 
the  conventional  religious  sense,  and  broke  in  upon  many 
religious  conventions.  The  charge  was  brought  against 
the  movement  that  it  secularized  religion.  The  religion  of 
the  previous  generation  had  become  largely  introspective. 
The  proof  of  its  reality  rested  in  certain  experiences.  It 
sent  the  religious  man  to  his  closet.  It  also  sent  him  out 
into  the  "byways  and  hedges";  it  was  a  religion  of  charity 
as  well  as  of  experience.  But  it  did  not  send  him  into  the 
shop  or  the  factory.  It  was  not  a  type  of  religion  fitted  to 
understand  or  to  meet  the  problems  involved  in  the  rise 
of  industrialism.  It  virtually  accepted  the  prohibition 
written  over  the  doors  of  the  new  workshops  —  "No  ad- 
mittance." It  was  bold  to  the  highest  degree  of  sacrificial 
courage  in  its  missionary  zeal,  but  it  shrank  from  contact 
with  the  growing  material  power  of  the  modern  world.  It 
saw  the  religious  peril  of  materialism,  but  not  the  religious 
opportunity  for  the  humanizing  of  material  forces. 

The  progressive  movement  also  ran  counter  at  this  point 
to  the  prevailing  religious  philosophy.  The  philosophy  of 
Protestantism  was  altogether  individualistic,  while  that 
of  Catholicism,  though  taking  far  more  account  of  the 


98  MY  GENERATION 

individual  in  his  religious  or  non-religious  environment, 
was  by  no  means  socialistic  in  the  modern  sense  of  the 
term.  The  long  reign  of  individualism  had  produced  its 
own  habit  of  mind,  dominant  alike  in  politics  and  religion. 
This  habit  of  mind  was  naturally  unsympathetic  with 
the  social  tendencies  of  modern  thought.  It  could  not 
understand  the  significance,  hardly  the  meaning,  of  a 
rapidly  developing  class  consciousness  under  the  advance 
of  industrialism.  Least  of  all  was  it  able  to  appreciate  the 
religious  effect  of  those  associations  which  were  gradually 
alienating  large  numbers  within  the  industrial  commu- 
nities from  the  services  of  the  Church,  and  even  from  its 
influence. 

In  carrying  out  its  humanistic  impulse,  the  progressive 
movement  did  not  stop  short  of  the  attempt  to  humanize 
the  current  theology.  The  current  theology  as  expressed 
in  the  creeds  was  not  sensitive  to  the  human  demands 
made  upon  it.  The  creeds  had  been  for  the  most  part  pre- 
pared to  meet  errors  existing  at  the  time,  and  then  con- 
sidered most  dangerous.  They  were  unnecessarily  explicit 
at  points  wh^ch  had  lost  their  first  importance.  In  certain 
other  instances  conclusions  and  inferences,  logical  but 
now  unreal,  had  been  allowed  to  stand.  This  was  especially 
true  of  the  doctrine  pertaining  to  human  destiny.  It  is 
hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the  current  Christian  the- 
ology had  reached  an  impasse  at  this  point.  It  affirmed  the 
necessity  of  personal  salvation  through  Christ,  but  it 
recognized  no  sufficient  means  or  provision  for  the  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  Christ.  Various  "apologies"  had  been 
written  to  soften  or  evade  the  issue,  but  the  issue  remained. 
It  still  challenged  theology  to  find  a  solution  at  once  log- 
ical and  real,  capable  of  harmonizing  the  teachings  of 


THE  PROGRESSIVE  MOVEMENT        99 

Scripture  and  the  rational  instincts  of  faith.  I  shall 
necessarily  have  much  to  say  of  this  issue  when  I  discuss 
the  Andover  controversy. 

So  far  as  the  progressive  movement  reached  the  stage 
of  open  conflict,  two  Seminaries  were  directly  involved  — 
Union  in  its  attempt  to  liberalize  the  doctrine  of  Scripture, 
and  Andover  in  its  attempt  to  humanize,  or  in  the  term 
then  used,  to  Christianize  the  doctrine  of  human  destiny. 
Among  individuals  who  stood  forth  resolutely  in  behalf  of 
theological  progress,  especially  in  this  last  phase,  note 
should  be  taken  of  Theodore  T.  Munger  and  Washington 
Gladden.  Dr.  Munger  was  a  disciple  of  Horace  Bushnell, 
and  carried  over  his  conception  of  moral  education  into 
the  problems  of  destiny.  He  was  a  prophetic  voice  in  the 
early  stages  of  theological  discussion  in  his  generation. 
His  "Freedom  of  Faith,"  published  in  1883,  with  an  in- 
troductory essay  on  the  New  Theology  was  a  direct  and 
forceful  stimulus  to  the  progressive  movement.  Dr. 
Gladden,  by  profession  a  journalist  as  well  as  a  minister, 
was  more  clearly  and  actively  identified  with  the  problems 
of  applied  Christianity,  but  his  efforts  to  humanize  social 
and  industrial  conditions  had  their  initiative  and  con- 
stant support  in  the  humanity  of  his  theology. 


CHAPTER  VII 


The  Andover  Period 
1880-1893 

ANDOVER  AS  A  STORM  CENTER  AND  AS  A  WORKING  CENTER 

I 

The  Opening  Phase  of  the  Andover  Controversy 

II 
The  Andover  Movement  and  the  Religious  Public 

III 

Andover  as  a  Working  Center  during  the  Decade  of  Conflict 

IV 

The  Andover  Trial  and  its  Results 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD 

I 

The  Opening  Phase  of  the  Andover  Controversy 

When  I  returned  to  Andover  in  1880,  fourteen  years  after 
graduation,  I  found  few  changes  in  the  outward  or  inward 
life  of  the  Seminary,  and  no  sign  of  the  impending  contro- 
versy. The  anticipated  reconstruction  to  which  I  have 
referred  did  not  assume  controversy  as  a  part  of  its  pro- 
gramme. There  had  been  nothing  in  the  history  of  Andover 
Seminary  to  warrant  such  an  assumption.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  to  be  assumed  that  Andover  would  continue 
to  take  its  part  in  such  advances  and  adjustments  as 
would  still  entitle  it  to  a  place  in  theological  leadership. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  unexpected  than  any  ex- 
hibition of  a  reactionary  spirit  at  a  time  when  the  theo- 
logical world  was  to  be  called  upon  to  meet  its  own  issues 
in  the  new  era  of  progress.  As  one  of  my  colleagues  re- 
marked at  a  judicial  session  of  the  Board  of  Visitors,  "I 
had  supposed  that  Andover,  with  its  origin,  and  history, 
and  traditions,  was  a  good  institution  for  the  advance- 
ment of  Christian  doctrine."  The  "Andover  controversy" 
was  not  out  of  time ;  it  was  simply  out  of  place.  It  belonged 
elsewhere.  That  it  should  have  fallen  upon  Andover  re- 
quires a  brief  word  of  explanation. 

The  Andover  controversy  was  not  altogether  a  theolog- 
ical controversy.  So  much  should  be  intimated  at  the  out- 
set. Personal  influences  were  at  work  in  its  inception  and 
throughout  its  continuance.   It  would  be  unprofitable  to 


102  MY  GENERATION 

recall  in  detail  this  underlying  fact,  but  the  fact  remains 
in  evidence  that  the  disturbing  influences  were  confined 
from  first  to  last  to  a  group  of  persons  whose  activity  and 
persistence  were  entirely  out  of  proportion  to  their  num- 
bers or  representative  character.  The  group  had  its  head- 
quarters in  the  Congregational  House,  in  Boston,  but 
whether  directed  from  Boston  or  Andover  was  not  always 
apparent.  It  was  an  influential  group,  but  more  influential 
than  representative.  It  did  not  represent  any  considerable 
number  of  the  alumni  of  the  Seminary  or  any  large  pro- 
portion of  its  constituency  in  the  churches;  and  after  the 
early  period  of  suspicion  and  alarm  it  steadily  declined  in 
influence.  It  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  at  any  time 
responsibly  related  to  the  Seminary.  The  Faculty  then  in 
service  was  a  thoroughly  united  body;  and  the  Trustees, 
with  a  single  exception,  were  equally  united.  To  under- 
stand how  it  was  possible  with  such  an  origin  for  the 
controversy  to  be  so  long  continued,  and  to  be  carried 
out  into  issues  which  required  for  their  settlement  a  pro- 
tracted legal  conflict,  one  must  have  some  knowledge  of 
the  peculiar  constitution  of  the  Seminary  as  a  corporate 
body. 

The  general  catalogue  of  the  Seminary,  covering  its  ex- 
istence till  it  was  removed  to  Cambridge,  refers  to  it  as 
a  "Theological  Seminary  in  Phillips  Academy."  The  refer- 
ence was  accurate.  Phillips  Academy,  founded  in  1778, 
had  like  most  of  the  educational  foundations  of  the  time 
a  distinct  religious  intention.  In  1795  a  special  foundation 
was  established  in  the  Academy  for  divinity  students. 
It  was  therefore  in  strict  accordance  with  the  original 
design  of  the  Founders  that  the  Trustees  applied  to  the 
Legislature  in   1807  for  authority  to  receive  additional 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  103 

funds  for  the  purpose  of  theological  instruction,  Madam 
Phoebe  Phillips  and  John  Phillips,  Esq.,  the  daughter-in- 
law  and  grandson  of  the  Founder,  having  obligated  them- 
selves to  provide  suitable  buildings  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  sixty  students,  including  a  hall  for  lectures  and  a 
library.  The  following  year  a  fellow-townsman,  Samuel 
Abbot,  established  a  chair  of  instruction  in  Christian 
Theology.  Steps  were  taken  looking  to  the  establishment 
of  other  chairs  thought  necessary  for  a  theological  curri- 
culum. Meanwhile  the  movement  on  Andover  Hill  had 
awakened  the  interest  and  to  a  degree  the  suspicion  of  a 
section  of  the  same  religious  body,  but  holding  somewhat 
modified  views  of  Calvinism.  There  was  danger  of  the 
establishment  of  a  rival  school.  The  danger  was  averted 
by  the  incorporation,  after  much  discussion  and  some 
minor  compromises,  of  the  promotors  of  the  rival  scheme 
into  the  Andover  Foundation  under  the  title  of  "Associate 
Founders."  These  Associates  contributed  the  funds,  ample 
for  the  time,  for  three  additional  chairs  of  instruction,  and 
the  funds  for  an  additional  building.  But  the  contribution 
was  not  unencumbered.  It  carried  with  it  the  acceptance 
of  a  board  of  oversight,  known  as  the  "Board  of  Visitors," 
three  in  number,  nominated  in  the  first  instance  by 
the  Associates  to  serve  with  them  during  their  lifetime, 
and  thereafter  to  be  self-perpetuating.  These  Visitors,  in 
the  language  of  the  Associate  Founders,  "were  to  be  the 
guardians,  overseers,  and  protectors  of  our  Foundation." 
Their  special  functions  were  to  preserve  unaltered  and 
intact  the  articles  of  Association,  including  the  Creed, 
which  had  been  modified  in  some  particulars  to  bring  into 
prominence  some  of  the  tenets  to  which  the  Associates 
attached  importance;  to  interpret  the  Creed  as  occasion 


104  MY  GENERATION 

might  require;  to  examine  the  professors  elected  by  the 
Trustees  on  their  Foundation;  and  "to  take  care  that  the 
duties  of  every  professor  on  the  Foundation  be  intelli- 
gently and  faithfully  discharged,  and  to  admonish  or  re- 
move him  either  for  misbehavior,  heterodoxy,  incapacity, 
or  neglect  of  the  duties  of  his  office."  The  relation  of  the 
Visitors  to  the  occupants  of  chairs  on  the  original  or 
general  Foundation  was  not  clearly  determined.  The 
Stone  Professorship  of  the  Relations  of  Christianity  and 
Science,  established  at  a  later  date,  was  expressly  ex- 
empted from  the  supervision  of  the  Roard  of  Visitors. 
Keeping  in  mind  the  fact  that  the  Roard  of  Trustees  was 
the  governing  board,  it  will  be  seen  that  this  twofold 
jurisdiction  was  liable  to  become  at  any  time  the  source 
of  friction,  if  not  of  contention,  partly  through  the  over- 
definition  of  the  duties  of  the  Visitors,  and  partly  through 
the  want  of  full  coordination  between  the  two  Roards. 

During  the  period  of  the  controversy  (1882-92)  the 
membership  of  the  Roard  of  Trustees  remained  practically 
unchanged.  This  Roard  consisted  of  twelve  members  who 
were  chosen  with  reference  to  the  interests  both  of  the 
Academy  and  of  the  Seminary.  They  were  at  this  time 
Hon.  Alpheus  Hardy,  Chairman  of  the  Roard  until  his 
death,  succeeded  by  his  son  Mr.  Alpheus  H.  Hardy  as  a 
member  of  the  Roard,  and  by  Rev.  Dr.  Daniel  T.  Fiske 
as  Chairman  of  the  Roard;  Dr.  C.  F.  P.  Rancroft,  Princi- 
pal of  Phillips  Academy,  and  Mr.  Edward  Taylor,  Treas- 
urer of  both  the  Academy  and  Seminary;  Rev.  Dr.  J.  W. 
Wellman,  of  Newton  and  Maiden;  Thomas  H.  Russell, 
Esq.,  of  Roston;  Hon.  Joseph  T.  Ropes,  of  Roston;  Rev. 
Dr.  Alexander  McKenzie,  of  Cambridge;  Rev.  Dr.  William 
H.  Wilcox,  of  Maiden;  Hon.  Robert  R.  Rishop,  of  Newton; 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  105 

President  Franklin  Carter,  of  Williams  College;  and  Rev. 
Dr.  James  G.  Vose,  of  Providence. 

The  Board  of  Visitors  in  the  meantime,  though  consist- 
ing of  but  three  men,  changed  its  membership  more  fre- 
quently, creating  the  constant  liability  that  "a  single 
personal  variation  might  change  its  character  entirely." 
The  Board  in  the  earlier  stage  of  the  controversy  consisted 
of  President  Julius  H.  Seelye,  of  Amherst;  Hon.  Charles 
Theodore  Russell,  of  Boston;  and  Rev.  Dr.  William  T. 
Eustis,  of  Springfield.  This  was  the  Board  which  passed 
upon  the  election  of  Dr.  Newman  Smyth,  rejecting  him 
by  a  vote  of  two  to  one.  The  Board  which  rendered  the 
mixed  decision  in  the  case  of  the  five  accused  professors, 
condemning  one  and  acquitting  four,  consisted  of  Presi- 
dent Julius  H.  Seelye,  Dr.  William  T.  Eustis,  and  Jonathan 
Marshall,  Esq.  The  Board  which  finally  recalled  this  de- 
cision and  dismissed  the  case,  consisted  of  Rev.  Dr.  George 
Leon  WTalker,  President;  Rev.  Dr.  Alonzo  H.  Quint,  and 
Jonathan  Marshall,  Esq.  The  personal  votes  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Board  on  these  different  occasions  will  be 
given  in  their  connection.  At  no  time,  except  possibly 
the  last,  was  the  vote  of  the  Board  unanimous.  The  fore- 
going facts,  if  kept  in  mind,  will  throw  light  upon  subse- 
quent proceedings. 

When  in  1881  at  the  close  of  the  academic  year,  Professor 
Park  resigned  from  the  Abbot  Chair  of  Christian  Theology, 
the  Faculty,  following  the  usual  procedure  in  professional 
schools  in  the  event  of  a  vacancy,  began  to  make  inquiries 
for  the  most  fit  man  to  present  to  the  Trustees  for  their 
consideration.  After  many  inquiries  and  much  corre- 
spondence at  home  and  abroad,  they  presented  the  name 
of   Dr.  Newman    Smyth,  basing  their   recommendation 


io6  MY  GENERATION 

upon  Dr.  Smyth's  reputation  as  a  broad  and  critical 
scholar,  upon  his  theological  opinions  embodying,  as  they 
believed,  the  best  traditions  of  Andover,  upon  his  well- 
proven  work  in  the  pastorate,  and  especially  upon  the 
intellectual  and  spiritual  power  which  he  had  shown 
through  his  published  works  in  the  sphere  of  Christian 
Apologetics.  Of  "Old  Faiths  in  New  Light"  (1879)  the 
"British  Quarterly"  had  said:  "The  present  volume  is 
one  of  those  books  which  mark  transition  periods  of  theo- 
logical thought.  It  is  eminently  conservative  of  orthodox 
thought  concerning  the  Bible  and  the  Christ,  but  is  so  by 
throwing  aside  many  old  modes  and  presenting,  if  not  in 
new  yet  in  less  familiar  lights,  their  true  character  and 
claims.  We  have  been  greatly  interested  in  the  discussion, 
in  its  vigorous  grasp,  its  moral  penetration,  its  complete- 
ness and  its  eloquence.  Just  as  Butler  constituted  a  new 
apologetic  for  the  men  of  his  day,  so  men  like  Mr.  N. 
Smyth  are  contributing  a  new  apologetic  for  our  own  time 
which,  as  in  Butler's  case,  consists  largely  in  a  newer, 
broader,  and  more  invulnerable  way  of  putting  the  ques- 
tion." This  book,  taken  in  connection  with  the  volumes 
on  "The  Religious  Feeling"  (1877),  and  "The  Orthodox 
Theology  of  To-day"  (1881),  gave  the  clearest  possible 
opportunity  for  all  concerned  to  ascertain  Dr.  Smyth's 
theological  views  as  well  as  to  measure  his  intellectual 
ability.  The  recommendation  of  the  Faculty  was  unani- 
mous and  hearty;  and  after  full  consideration  on  their 
part  the  Trustees  elected  him  to  the  chair  of  Christian 
Theology  with  no  dissenting  vote,  one  member  not  voting. 
Announcement  of  the  election  was  made  through  the 
public  press  under  date  of  March  4, 1882;  officially  through 
an  editorial  in  the  "Advertiser"  of  that  date.  In  its  first 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  107 

issue  following  this  announcement,  the  "  Congregationalist " 
declared  the  appointment  unsatisfactory  and  thereafter 
became  the  organ  of  disaffection.  Under  date  of  March  2, 
two  days  before  the  announcement  of  his  election,  a  letter 
was  sent  by  a  member  of  the  staff  of  the  "Congregation- 
alist "  to  a  member  of  the  Faculty,  calling  upon  the  Fac- 
ulty to  withdraw  the  nomination,  as  in  the  event  of  the 
confirmation  of  Dr.  Smyth  "the  appointment  will  be 
criticized  publicly  and  vigorously." 

Cannot  the  Andover  Faculty  [the  letter  ran  in  part]  be  per- 
suaded to  withdraw  the  nomination  of  Rev.  Newman  Smyth  to 
be  Professor  Park's  successor?  Without  underestimating  the  diffi- 
culty of  finding  a  suitable  man  for  the  place,  or  questioning  their 
anxiety  to  secure  the  best  man  for  it,  or  disputing  in  the  least 
Mr.  Smyth's  possession  of  marked  abilities,  the  fact  remains  and 
daily  grows  more  evident,  as  the  news  of  his  election  becomes 
known  more  generally,  that  such  an  election  is  regarded  as  a 
mistake  and  as  an  injury  to  the  best  interests  of  the  Seminary, 
which  will  be  both  severe  and  lasting.  So  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  learn  how  it  strikes  people,  and  I  have  taken  some  pains  to 
learn,  I  have  heard  of  only  one  man  who  likes  it.  The  best  which 
can  be  said  of  it  is  that  it  is  a  most  hazardous  experiment,  and 
people  do  not  feel  that  Andover  just  now  can  afford  to  run  risks 
needlessly. 

If  I  understand  the  situation,  Mr.  Smyth's  nomination  is  be- 
fore the  Visitors  who  have  not  yet  confirmed  it.  They  must 
either  confirm  or  refuse  to  confirm,  or  the  nomination  may  be 
withdrawn.  If  they  confirm,  the  mischief  will  be  done  and  the 
appointment  will  be  criticized  publicly  and  vigorously  in  a  way 
which  will  not  be  pleasant  however  good-naturedly  it  may  be 
phrased.  If  they  refuse  to  confirm,  it  may  be  painful  for  Mr. 
Smyth  and  his  friends.  It  is  quite  sure  to  be.  But  if  the  Faculty 
could  see  their  way  to  quietly  withdraw  the  nomination,  it 
seems  to  me  that  they  would  save  themselves  and  Mr.  Smyth 
some  annoyance  and  the  matter  could  drop,  so  far  as  concerns 
him,  they  beginning  to  look  for  some  one  else. 


io8  MY  GENERATION 

This  very  self-revealing  letter  brings  out  clearly  two 
facts  —  first  the  narrowness  of  the  circle  in  which  the 
writer  operated  (he  found  but  one  man  as  the  result  of 
his  inquiries  who  liked  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Smyth); 
second,  the  determination  of  the  group  at  this  early  stage 
not  to  accept  the  decision  of  the  Visitors  should  they  vote 
to  confirm  Dr.  Smyth.  It  is  also  a  fair  inference,  from  the 
pressure  brought  to  bear  on  the  Faculty  to  withdraw  the 
nomination,  that  pressure  was  being  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  Visitors  to  reject  it.  This  inference  is  sustained 
by  a  sentence  in  a  personal  letter  from  President  Seelye 
received  a  little  later  —  "The  Board  of  Visitors,  notwith- 
standing the  criticisms  with  which  they  have  been  favored, 
not  to  say  flooded,  have  been  convinced  by  Dr.  Smyth  of 
his  profound  agreement  with  the  established  doctrinal 
position  of  the  Seminary." 

The  chief  ground  of  objection  on  the  part  of  the  "  Con- 
gregationalist"  was  a  relieving  theory  put  forth  by  Dr. 
Smyth  in  a  defense  of  the  Christian  doctrine  of  retribu- 
tion, to  the  effect  that  it  was  reasonable  to  believe  that 
those  who  had  had  no  opportunity  to  know  of  Christ  in 
this  life,  or  to  come  under  the  Christian  motives  to  re- 
pentance and  faith  might  have  such  opportunity  here- 
after. The  occasion  for  the  introduction  of  the  hypothesis 
was  the  challenge  of  a  local  club  of  skeptics  to  justify 
Christianity  at  this  point.  The  "  Congregationalist "  re- 
garded it  as  a  vague  and  unsettling  theory  having  no  suf- 
ficient support  in  Scripture  and  contrary  to  the  accepted 
doctrine  of  the  universal  decisiveness  of  this  life.  It  was 
charged  that  this  theory  constituted  "a  second  probation." 

To  the  mind  of  this  generation  it  seems  quite  impossible 
that  so  false  and  contradictory  a  term  as  "a  second  proba- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  109 

tion"  should  have  been  made  the  rallying  cry  of  the  alarm- 
ist, and  still  more  that  within  certain  limits  it  should  have 
been  an  effective  cry.  But  such  was  the  fact.  It  actually 
succeeded  in  bringing  together  various  incongruous  ele- 
ments, confirming  the  view  which  I  have  expressed  that 
the  influences  at  work  were  "not  altogether  theological." 
The  title  of  the  editorial  in  the  "  Congregation alist," 
"Professor  Park's  Successor,"  showed  the  nature  of  the 
appeal  to  that  type  of  mind  which  takes  alarm  in  any 
change  in  the  method  of  presenting  truth.  Professor  Park's 
method  was  that  of  the  advocate.  It  was  directed  to  a 
given  conclusion  and  was  satisfied  with  the  most  effective 
means  of  reaching  it.  It  left  a  good  deal  of  valuable  and 
really  pertinent  truth  by  the  wayside.  Dr.  Smyth's  method 
promised  to  be  that  of  the  interpreter.  It  seemed  to 
take  account  of  all  related  truth,  and  sought  to  arrive  at 
a  more  comprehensive  result  than  any  that  could  be 
reached  as  the  conclusion  of  an  argument.  The  term 
"second  probation"  was  also  made  use  of  to  waken  the 
antagonism  of  the  promoters  of  missions.  There  are 
"vested  interests"  in  dogma  as  there  are  vested  interests 
in  property.  The  dogma  of  the  universal  decisiveness  of 
this  life,  involving  the  perdition  of  the  heathen,  was  a 
vested  interest  of  incalculable  value  in  the  judgment  of 
certain  managers  of  missionary  boards.  To  question  this 
dogma  was  in  their  language  "to  cut  the  nerve  of  missions." 
It  were  better  to  make  Christianity  unreasonable  if  not 
unbelievable.  Still  further,  the  term  in  question  was  de- 
vised and  employed  for  the  special  purpose  of  making  the 
hypothesis  of  Dr.  Smyth,  regarding  the  Christian  possi- 
bilities of  the  future  state,  appear  to  be  contradictory  to 
the  Andover  Creed.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Andover  Creed 


no  MY  GENERATION 

was  silent  at  this  point.  The  subject  had  not  then  come 
under  consideration.  All  that  could  be  said  was  that,  in 
the  judgment  of  the  "  Congregationalist,"  the  makers  of 
the  Creed  would  have  condemned  the  theory  in  question 
had  it  been  before  them.  But  to  say  this  was  to  deal  in  that 
most  dangerous  of  all  creations  of  the  human  mind  — 
"constructive  heresy."  From  this  risk  the  "Congregation- 
alist" did  not  shrink,  but  proceeded. to  affirm  that  any 
one  holding  this  hypothesis  could  not  honestly  subscribe 
to  the  Creed;  and  if  allowed  to  subscribe,  would  subject 
the  management  of  the  Seminary  to  the  charge  of  per- 
version of  funds.  Under  this  construction  of  creeds  and  of 
credal  obligations,  the  Seminary  was  conceded  to  be  im- 
movably anchored  to  a  "particular  phase  of  orthodoxy 
in  the  past,"  and  it  was  also  conceded  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  its  guardians  to  hold  fast  to  this  anchorage. 

In  this  effort  to  establish  the  theory  of  constructive 
heresy  on  which  the  charge  of  dishonesty  in  subscription 
to  the  Creed  of  the  Seminary  might  be  based,  the  "Con- 
gregationalist" went  so  far  in  its  appeal  to  the  prejudices 
of  all  opponents  of  creeds  and  of  creed  subscription  in 
general  that  the  Faculty  felt  compelled  to  arrest  the  dis- 
cussion by  showing  its  sinister  motive  and  its  deplorable 
effect.  They  justified  their  action  in  this  matter,  while  the 
question  of  the  confirmation  of  Dr.  Smyth  was  still  be- 
fore the  Visitors  by  saying  in  the  introductory  paragraph 
of  their  Letter  to  the  public:  "While  the  election  of  a 
Professor  at  Andover  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Visitors,  it 
would  ordinarily  be  improper  for  either  the  Board  of 
Trustees  or  the  Faculty  to  engage  in  a  public  discussion 
of  it.  If  we  exceed  the  customary  rule  in  the  present  in- 
stance, it  is  because  the  discussion  has  swept  into  its 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  in 

current  questions  far  broader  and  more  vital  than  that 
of  the  confirmation  or  rejection  of  the  Professor-elect  — 
questions  that  touch  not  only  the  life  of  Andover  Sem- 
inary, but  the  perpetuity  as  well  of  all  trusts  conditioned 
by  a  creed,  and  even  the  possibility  of  an  orthodoxy  at 
once  stable  and  progressive."  This  letter  was  signed  by  all 
the  members  of  the  Faculty  in  active  service.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  Letter  was  given  wide  circulation  in  the  daily 
press.  I  find  in  referring  to  the  files  of  the  "Independent," 
at  the  time,  while  it  was  as  yet  under  the  unfettered  edi- 
torial management  of  Dr.  William  Hayes  Ward,  the  most 
influential  organ  of  liberal  orthodoxy,  that  the  Letter  was 
published  in  full  under  date  of  April  13, 1882,  with  a  clear 
interpretation  of  the  Andover  situation.  It  also  appeared 
in  the  "  Congregationalist "  of  the  same  week  with  edi- 
torial comment. 

Meanwhile  as  this  discussion  went  on,  Dr.  Smyth  was 
still  in  the  hands  of  the  Board  of  Visitors.  Their  decision 
had  gone  to  the  Trustees  in  a  tentative  form,  but  had  not 
been  made  public.  It  had,  however,  been  foreshadowed 
in  a  brief  personal  interview,  following  the  official  examin- 
ation of  Dr.  Smyth.  As  I  had  been  asked  by  President 
Seelye,  the  Chairman  of  the  Board,  to  introduce  Dr.  Smyth 
to  the  Visitors  at  their  session  at  the  Mansion  House,  An- 
dover, he  courteously  called  at  my  house  on  his  way  to  the 
station  and  briefly  outlined  their  possible  verdict.  This  was 
similar  in  terms  to  that  finally  rendered,  and  was  to  the 
effect  that  while  the  Board  was  fully  satisfied  with  the  con- 
formity of  Dr.  Smyth's  theological  views  with  their  own 
interpretation  of  the  Andover  Creed,  they  so  far  questioned 
his  habit  of  mind  as  a  teacher  that  they  hesitated  to  con- 
firm him.  Upon  Dr.  Seelye's  asking  me  what  I  thought  of 


112  MY  GENERATION 

this  outcome  of  the  case,  I  was  obliged  to  answer  that  it 
seemed  to  me  that  it  was  an  evasion  of  the  essential  issue, 
and  that  it  would  be  so  regarded  by  the  Faculty  and  the 
Trustees.  My  reply,  though  received  with  attention,  was 
evidently  not  convincing. 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Hardy,  President  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees,  gives  a  suggestion  of  the  discussion 
which  went  on  between  the  two  Boards  while  the  case 
was  pending  before  the  Visitors: 

My  dear  Mr.  Hardy: 

I  thank  you  for  forwarding  Dr.  Seelye's  letter,  which  please 
find  enclosed.  As  in  his  letter  to  you  he  referred  very  kindly  to 
my  attitude  toward  Newman  Smyth,  I  want  to  give  you  briefly 
the  reasons  which  hold  me  to  my  record. 

1.  The  election  of  Newman  Smyth  unites  the  Faculty.  I  do 
not  say  that  we  could  not  unite  upon  any  other  man,  but  I  do  not 
see  the  man  upon  whom  we  could  unite  so  thoroughly  and  heart- 
ily. If  I  were  writing  to  President  Seelye,  I  should  enter  quite  at 
length  into  this  matter,  but  you  know  the  story  better  than  I  do. 

2.  The  election  of  Newman  Smyth  wakens  enthusiasm  among 
students.  Of  this  you  have  had  the  testimony.1  And  in  the  pres- 

1  Andover  Theological  Seminary 
March  11,  188* 
Prof.  W.  J.  Tucker: 

Dear  Sir: 
The  Congregationalisms  editorial  on  "  Professor  Park's  Successor,"  which  came 
to  my  notice  this  morning,  suggested  for  the  first  time  that  there  might  be  some 
opposition  to  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Smyth.  As  I  chance  to  be  almost  the  only 
member  of  my  class  remaining  here,  I  feel  that  I  should  not  do  my  duty  by  my 
classmates  who  have  gone  away,  did  I  not  express  to  you  the  intense  satisfaction 
with  which  the  appointment  has  been  regarded  by  us  all.  I  have  also  heard  from 
friends  in  Union  Seminary  that  the  appointment  meets  with  similar  enthusiasm 
among  the  students  there. 

In  case  the  feelings  of  the  students  would  have  any  weight  whatever,  I  hope 
that  at  least  no  negative  action  will  be  taken  before  we  have  an  opportunity  to 
present  the  petition,  which  I  know  would  spring  spontaneously  from  every 
member  of  the  Seminary,  that  Dr.  Smyth's  appointment  be  confirmed. 

Inasmuch  as  students,  though  lower,  are  yet  quite  as  essential  members  of  the 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  113 

ent  state  of  philosophic  thought  it  would  be  impossible  to  elect 
any  one  who  would  awaken  enthusiasm,  who  would  not  also 
waken  some  opposition.  A  man  might  be  elected  with  whom  no 
party,  or  no  person  could  find  fault,  but  he  would  meet  with  an 
apathy  more  to  be  feared  than  opposition. 

3.  The  election  of  Newman  Smyth  gives  us  a  man  who  can 
keep  up  the  connection  between  Andover  and  the  religious  pub- 
lic. He  has  made  an  audience  through  his  books.  Newman 
Smyth  is  not  an  orator  like  Professor  Park.  It  is  a  question 
whether  he  cannot  do  a  larger  and  more  timely  work  by  his  pen 
than  by  his  voice.  But  he  is  a  preacher,  as  his  pastorate  at 
Quincy,  Illinois,  testifies,  and  as  the  attempt  of  the  Center 
Church  at  New  Haven  to  secure  him  also  testifies. 

4.  The  election  of  Newman  Smyth  is  the  "truest  conserva- 
tism." So  a  man  writes  to  us  who  estimates  the  impression  upon 
the  public.  It  saves  to  the  Church  men  who  are  thinking  most 
deeply,  and  who  feel  most  the  attacks  of  skepticism. 

It  is  a  noticeable  fact  that  no  skeptic,  no  secularist,  no  man  of 
doubtful  orthodoxy  has  claimed  Newman  Smyth  as  a  heretic. 
No  man  has  pointed  out  the  heresy  which  has  been  charged  upon 
him.  It  has  been  reserved  for  the  friends  of  Orthodox  Christian- 
ity, under  what  seems  to  me  to  be  an  utter  misapprehension,  to  call 
attention  to  and  emphasize  his  position  in  regard  to  the  future. 

What  was  at  most  entirely  incidental,  what  has  its  complete 
explanation  in  the  fact  that  the  work  that  he  was  doing  was 
purely  apologetic,  has  been  seized  upon  and  held  up  as  a  dog- 
matic utterance  covering  the  whole  case.  I  should  apprehend  the 
greatest  consequences  to  the  younger  ministry  from  the  rejection 
of  a  man  of  such  marked  conservatism,  and  constructive  ten- 
dency. If  such  a  man  cannot  be  accepted  in  illustration  of  the 

organism  of  a  seminary  as  professors,  I  cannot  believe  that  those  who  have  the 
interests  of  Andover  Seminary  in  charge,  will  deliberately  disappoint  the  nu- 
merous students  both  here  and  elsewhere,  who  are  hoping  to  complete  their 
preparation  for  the  work  of  maintaining  the  old  faith  in  the  new  light  under 
the  instruction  of  the  one  man  in  America  whom  we  have  long  regarded  as  best 
qualified  to  give  us  the  equipment  that  we  need. 
Very  respectfully  yours 

William  DeWitt  Htde 


ii4  MY  GENERATION 

orthodoxy  of  to-day  then  young  men  will  begin  to  look  elsewhere 
than  to  orthodoxy  for  their  teachers  and  helpers. 

5.  The  election  of  Newman  Smyth  bears  investigation.  To  go 
back  to  his  nomination,  it  was  a  fact  that  the  reading  of  his  books 
brought  the  Faculty  into  complete  unity.  It  was  a  fact  that  he 
grew  by  investigation  and  correspondence  in  the  esteem  of  the 
Trustees.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  Board  of  Visitors,  "Notwithstand- 
ing the  criticisms  with  which  they  have  been  favored,  not  to  say 
flooded,  have  been  convinced  by  Dr.  Smyth  of  his  profound 
agreement  with  the  established  doctrinal  position  of  the  Semi- 
nary." (Quotation  from  a  private  letter  from  Dr.  Seelye.) 

Why  then  should  not  the  "confirmation  of  Dr.  Smyth  be  with 
me  a  matter  of  strong  desire?  "  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  held  by 
the  thought  of  consistency.  The  reasons  which  at  first  suggested 
his  name  have  grown  in  weight  under  the  disclosures  of  the  past 
week. 

It  did  not  occur  to  me  when  I  began  to  write,  that  this  state- 
ment would  go  beyond  yourself,  but  you  are  at  entire  liberty  to 
use  it  as  you  think  best. 

Very  sincerely  yours 

Wm.  J.  Tucker 

In  due  time  the  decision  of  the  Visitors  was  rendered 
to  the  Trustees,  but  in  tentative  form,  that  in  place  of 
their  own  proposed  rejection  of  Dr.  Smyth  the  Trustees 
might  be  persuaded  to  withdraw  his  election.  In  this 
communication,  according  to  the  report  of  the  "Spring- 
field Republican"  based  on  the  text  of  a  copy  in  its  pos- 
session, the  Visitors  declare  themselves  "convinced  of  the 
general  harmony  of  Dr.  Smyth's  theological  views  with 
those  which  have  been  identified  with  the  history  of  the 
Andover  Seminary  from  the  beginning."  They  are  fully 
satisfied  that  "he  heartily  accepts  the  Creed,"  and  that 
on  the  special  points  raised  —  as  to  sin,  atonement,  and 
the  future  state  —  "he  is  in  substantial  agreement  with 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  115 

the  characteristic  doctrinal  position  of  this  Seminary." 
They  do,  however,  find  it  a  difficulty  that  "he  seems  to 
conceive  of  truth  poetically  rather  than  speculatively," 
and  fear  that  this  "rhetorical  quality  would  interfere  with 
his  precision  as  a  teacher."  It  is,  they  say,  on  these  con- 
siderations rather  than  on  doctrinal  questions  that  they 
hesitate  and  seek  for  further  light.  They  ask  the  Trustees 
to  reconsider  the  matter  in  view  of  these  objections.  The 
Trustees  made  prompt  reply  to  this  communication 
through  a  committee,  acknowledging  the  courtesy  of  the 
Visitors  in  re-submitting  the  matter  to  the  original 
Board,  and  expressing  their  gratification  with  the  de- 
clared approval  of  Dr.  Smyth's  theological  views,  but 
saying  that  in  their  judgment  the  reasons  given  for  the 
hesitancy  of  the  Visitors  in  ratifying  his  election  were  not 
sufficient  to  warrant  them  in  withdrawing  his  name,  and 
asking  in  return  for  further  consideration  on  the  part  of 
the  Visitors. 

In  their  second  communication  to  the  Trustees,  the 
Visitors  made  their  tentative  decision  formal  and  final, 
somewhat  enlarging  the  statement,  but  making  slight 
changes  in  the  phraseology  already  reported.  In  the  minute 
which  they  adopted  by  a  vote  of  two  to  one,  Judge  Russell 
voting  in  the  negative,  they  say:  "The  Board  of  Visitors 
would  again  express  their  conviction  that  the  theological 
views  of  Dr.  Newman  Smyth  are  in  general  harmony 
with  those  which  have  been  identified  with  the  history  of 
the  Andover  Seminary  from  the  beginning.  After  his  full 
and  explicit  acceptance  of  the  Creed  and  his  frank  addi- 
tional statements  in  response  to  our  inquiries,  it  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  doubt  his  substantial  agreement  with 
the  doctrinal  position  characteristic  of  this  Institution. 


n6  MY  GENERATION 

His  natural  frankness,  his  moral  earnestness,  and  his 
Christian  sincerity  are  too  evident  to  permit  us  after  our 
conference  with  him  to  raise  any  question  upon  this  point." 

The  point  upon  which  the  rejection  of  Dr.  Smyth 
turned,  as  restated  officially,  was  that  it  is  his  habit  "to 
use  language  more  as  expression  of  his  feelings  than  of 
his  thoughts,  and  to  conceive  of  truth  sentimentally  and 
poetically  rather  than  speculatively  and  philosophically." 
Of  this  decision  Dr.  Duryea  wrote:  "I  am  sorry  for  the 
record  of  the  Visitors.  I  wish  they  had  acted  and  given 
no  reasons.  The  disparity  between  their  encomium  and 
criticism  cannot  be  accounted  for  on  any  hypothesis 
readily  suggested  to  the  ordinary  reader.  This  will  leave 
them  open  to  the  charge  of  leaning  on  both  sides,  and 
coming  out  of  a  very  small  crevice,  under  the  pressure 
they  were  not  able  to  bring  themselves  to  resist." 

Of  course  there  was  no  way  of  exposing  the  fallacy  of 
the  judgment  of  the  Visitors  regarding  the  habit  of  Dr. 
Smyth's  mind,  except  as  it  should  be  made  evident  through 
his  subsequent  career.  As  that  became  more  and  more  a 
matter  of  public  attention,  it  was  seen  how  capricious  the 
judgment  had  been.  Called  at  once  to  the  First  Church 
of  New  Haven,  he  made  the  pulpit  of  that  historic  church 
at  that  academic  center  a  fit  complement  to  the  intellec- 
tual life  of  the  University.  "The  imagination  and  feeling" 
which  illumined  and  vitalized  his  preaching,  have  never 
disturbed  the  sanity  or  lucidity  of  his  utterances.  "Pre- 
cision of  thought"  has  been  his  unfailing  characteristic. 
He  has  been  not  misunderstood  by  the  men  of  his  own 
generation  or  by  the  successive  generations  of  students 
who  have  been  drawn  to  his  ministry.  And  in  the  larger 
religious  world,  I  know  of  few  who  would  be  recognized  as 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  117 

entitled  to  an  equal  place  among  men  of  so-called  "light 
and  leading."  No  name  is  more  closely  identified  with  the 
very  critical  and  highly  constructive  work  of  ecclesiastical 
unity  than  the  name  of  Newman  Smyth. 

Apparently  the  decision  of  the  Visitors,  in  spite  of  its 
injustice  to  Dr.  Smyth,  was  in  the  interest  of  theological 
freedom,  but  it  did  not  make  that  impression.  There 
were  two  reasons  why  it  produced  a  contrary  effect.  One 
was  the  very  general  distrust  of  its  consistency  if  not  of 
its  sincerity,  a  distrust  which  it  is  but  fair  to  say  was 
justified  by  a  subsequent  decision  condemning  a  professor 
for  holding  the  same  theological  views  which  they  had 
admitted  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  Creed.  (Exception 
should  be  made  to  this  criticism  in  behalf  of  President 
Seelye.)  The  other  reason  was  the  fact  that  while  the  de- 
cision seemed  to  settle  for  the  time  the  question  of  theo- 
logical freedom,  it  opened  the  question  of  institutional 
freedom.  For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Institution, 
the  Trustees  were  confronted  by  the  liability  attending 
the  acceptance  of  the  visitorial  system.  They  were  con- 
fronted by  the  system  in  what  seemed  to  them  to  be  the 
most  arbitrary  and  capricious  exercise  of  its  power.  More- 
over, it  was  a  keen  disappointment  to  those  who  had  come 
to  know  Dr.  Smyth  personally,  and  to  see  what  manner 
of  man  he  was  as  disclosed  by  his  bearing  under  the  trying 
circumstances  in  which  he  had  been  placed,  that  the  Sem- 
inary was  to  be  deprived  of  his  services.  The  Trustees 
were  thoroughly  aroused  by  the  decision,  and  at  once 
began  to  take  measures  looking  to  the  establishment  of  a 
new  chair  —  of  Apologetics  or  of  Comparative  Theology 
as  might  be  most  agreeable  to  Dr.  Smyth  —  to  be  free, 
after  the  precedent  of  the  Stone  Professorship,  from  the 


n8  MY  GENERATION 

jurisdiction  of  the  Visitors.  It  was  well  understood  that, 
although  the  exemption  of  the  Stone  Professorship  had 
been  passed  by  without  remonstrance,  the  establishment 
of  the  proposed  chair  would  be  legally  contested  by  the 
Visitors.  But  the  Trustees,  as  I  have  said,  were  fully 
aroused  and  were  prepared  to  defend  the  legality  of  their 
action.  One  of  the  legal  members  of  the  Board  went  so  far 
as  to  call  in  question  the  full  authority  assumed  by  the 
Visitors  over  the  use  of  the  Abbot  Chair  of  Christian 
Theology,  affirming  in  a  telegram  to  Dr.  Smyth,  "Visitors 
are  not  final  judges  of  founders'  intent  and  scope  of  Abbot 
Chair,  and  have  not  veto  power  over  assignment  of  duties 
of  that  Chair  by  Trustees."  The  Trustees  unanimously, 
with  an  exception  before  noted,  asked  Dr.  Smyth  to  accept 
an  election  to  the  chair  in  question,  its  name  and  function 
to  be  determined  by  him,  and  the  Faculty  urgently  sec- 
onded their  request.  As  the  correspondence  of  the  time 
shows,  Dr.  Smyth  took  the  matter  into  careful  and  sym- 
pathetic consideration,  but  felt  compelled  to  decline  the 
proposal.  To  him  the  controversy  had  had  such  theological 
significance  that  he  feared  the  effect  if  it  should  be  given 
at  once  a  legal  bearing.  That  might  come  later,  but  the 
defenders  of  theological  freedom  should  not  be  the  ones 
to  give  it  that  aspect,  as  would  be  the  case  if  the  right  to 
establish  a  chair  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Visitors 
should  be  tested  in  the  courts.  The  question  should  be  held, 
in  his  judgment,  definitely  and  persistently  to  the  theo- 
logical issue,  and  if  it  should  be  necessary,  fought  out  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  it  tell  most  impressively  for  theo- 
logical freedom.  Such  was  his  judgment  at  the  time,  and 
such  is  still  his  opinion  as  he  has  taken  note  of  the  effect 
of  his  decision.  In  a  recent  letter  he  writes:  "As  I  look 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  119 

back,  I  wonder  whether  my  decision  then  not  to  accept 
what  the  Trustees  so  valiantly  urged,  did  not  providen- 
tially result  in  presenting  the  issue  in  its  full  significance 
and  on  better  lines  than  would  have  been  possible,  if  it  had 
turned  simply  on  my  occupying  a  chair  then.  I  hope  you 
may  be  able  to  make  some  detailed  account  of  the  whole 
matter.  .  .  .  The  younger  men  hardly  know  how  their 
liberty  was  won  for  them  by  the  Andover  controversy." 
I  am  not  disposed  to  question  the  wisdom  of  Dr.  Smyth's 
decision  or  the  justice  of  his  present  opinion.  I  certainly 
agree  with  him  in  thinking  that  the  result  actually  achieved 
was  greater  than  could  have  been  gained  by  the  simple 
acceptance  on  his  part  of  a  chair  created  for  him  by  the 
Trustees.  Much  more  would  have  been  necessary  on  their 
part  —  at  least  nothing  less  than  such  a  reorganization  of 
the  Seminary  as  would  have  allowed  them  to  make  this 
new  foundation  the  beginning  of  an  enlarged  and  free 
institution  through  the  restriction,  or  very  clear  sub- 
ordination, of  the  Board  of  Visitors.  This  was  what  I  had 
in  mind  when  I  joined  with  my  colleagues  in  urging  upon 
Dr.  Smyth  his  acceptance  of  the  proposal  of  the  Trustees. 
Possibly  the  result  even  then,  had  the  larger  scheme  been 
successfully  carried  out,  would  have  been  no  more  im- 
pressive. To  form  any  comparative  judgment  as  to  the 
relative  value  of  the  two  possible  results,  it  is  necessary  to 
call  in  the  experience  of  another  seminary  placed  at  about 
the  same  time  in  similar  circumstances.  The  two  semi- 
naries which  bore  the  brunt  of  the  battle  a  generation  ago 
for  theological  freedom  were  Andover  and  Union.  Each 
won  a  notable  victory,  but  Union  did  not  stop  short  till  it 
had  gained  institutional  as  well  as  immediate  theological 
freedom.  It  finally  set  itself  free  from  all  " visitatorial" 


120  MY  GENERATION 

control.  As  a  result  I  think  it  is  evident  that  Union  is  to- 
day more  secure  than  Andover  in  its  theological  freedom, 
and  better  equipped  in  its  unencumbered  strength  for  the 
opportunities  and  exigencies  of  the  modern  theological 
world. 

The  inconclusiveness  of  the  decision  of  the  Visitors 
created  a  state  of  uncertainty  in  the  public  mind,  regarding 
the  immediate  future  of  the  Seminary,  but  no  confusion 
in  the  minds  of  the  Trustees  and  Faculty.  It  seemed  rather 
to  unify  them,  and  to  give  definite  shape  to  their  plans. 
The  unexpected  and  uncalled-for  prominence  which  had 
been  given  to  the  theory  of  a  possible  future  probation  for 
those  who  had  not  had  a  Christian  opportunity  in  this  life, 
was  not  allowed  to  force  the  theory  out  of  right  proportion 
in  the  general  scheme  of  Christian  doctrine.  On  the  one 
hand,  it  was  fully  understood  that  the  question  which  had 
been  raised  by  its  introduction  was  yet  to  be  settled.  It 
was  not  to  be  set  aside,  or  held  in  diplomatic  abeyance. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  was  determined  that  it  should  not 
be  forced  to  a  premature  settlement.  It  was  not  to  be 
made  a  shibboleth  in  the  further  effort  to  fill  the  Abbot 
Chair  of  Christian  Theology.  What  was  to  be  sought  in  a 
candidate  for  that  chair  was  not  a  ready-made  opinion  on 
the  subject  which  had  been  so  recently  in  controversy,  but 
rather,  apart  from  the  requisite  professional  qualification, 
those  personal  qualities  which  would  demand  full  liberty 
of  investigation  and  insure  a  candid  judgment.  The  special 
qualities  sought  for  in  this  emergency  were  open-minded- 
ness,  candor,  courage,  breadth  of  view,  and  intellectual 
and  moral  sympathy  with  the  aims  of  progressive  theology. 
It  is  doubtful  if  these  qualities  could  have  been  more 
perfectly  exemplified  than  in  Dr.  George  Harris,  who  was 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  121 

now  elected  to  the  chair.  When  questioned  by  the  Visitors 
regarding  the  theory  of  a  future  probation,  he  replied 
with  characteristic  frankness  that  "he  had  not  reached  a 
definite  opinion,"  but  that  he  wished  "to  emphasize  the 
liberty  not  only  of  clergymen,  but  of  those  who  might  take 
the  Creed  to  hold  the  opinion."  The  Visitors  took  no  ex- 
ception to  this  statement. 

There  was  an  untimely,  and  in  every  way  regrettable, 
but  still  unavoidable,  sequel  to  the  agitation  attending 
the  rejection  of  Dr.  Smyth.  I  refer  to  the  resignation  of 
Professors  Thayer  and  Mead  in  protest  against  certain 
requirements  in  the  subscription  to  the  Andover  Creed. 
Their  resignation  was  in  no  sense  a  logical  result  or  a 
necessary  consequence  of  Dr.  Smyth's  rejection.  Neither 
of  the  professors  had  the  slightest  sympathy  with  the 
action  of  the  Visitors.  But  that  action  had  naturally 
brought  into  public  discussion  the  whole  subject  of  creed 
subscription,  and  in  particular  the  terms  of  subscription 
to  the  Andover  Creed.  Both  of  the  professors,  especially 
Professor  Thayer,  were  men  of  a  high  sense  of  personal 
liberty.  They  had  been  for  some  time  restive  under  the 
general  requirement  of  subscription,  but  the  special  re- 
quirement which  occasioned  their  protest  was  that  sub- 
scription should  be  repeated  once  in  five  years.  As  the 
time  for  the  renewal  of  their  subscription  approached, 
they  naturally  became  more  sensitive  to  the  requirement 
in  view  of  existing  circumstances,  and  asked  the  Trustees 
to  relieve  them  of  the  obligation.  They  argued  that  as 
they  had  once  subscribed,  and  no  exception  had  been 
taken  by  the  Visitors  to  their  holding  of  the  Creed  or 
to  their  teaching,  the  required  renewal  was  not  only 
superfluous,  but   in  a  degree   humiliating.  The   demand 


122  MY  GENERATION 

implied  distrust  or  suspicion  of  the  Faculty,  in  place  of 
that  full  and  unquestioning  confidence  which  ought  to  be 
given  to  men  who  had  proved  their  loyalty.  It  tended  to 
confirm  the  popular  impression  of  literal  and  slavish  sub- 
scription. Their  contention  was  not  unreasonable,  but  as 
I  have  indicated,  it  was  untimely.  It  was  at  least  out  of 
harmony  with  the  theory  and  practice  of  the  Faculty  and 
with  the  position  which  they  were  seeking  to  defend. 
Their  position  in  regard  to  creed  subscription  was  that 
the  requirement  of  subscription  carried  with  it  the  right 
of  interpretation.  No  man  was  to  be  required  to  take  the 
Seminary  Creed  literally,  not  even  the  Visitors,  who, 
though  charged  with  the  duty  of  seeing  that  it  remained 
unaltered,  were  equally  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  in- 
terpreting it.  As  in  the  case  of  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  who  might  be  strict  or  free  constructionists  of  the 
Constitution,  so  the  Visitors  might  interpret  the  Creed 
strictly  or  freely.  The  right  of  interpretation  granted,  the 
stated  renewal  of  one's  subscription,  whether  Visitor, 
Trustee,  or  Professor,  was  a  matter  of  secondary  impor- 
tance. Each  renewal  might  furnish  the  occasion  for  re- 
statement of  the  meaning  of  the  Creed  (at  any  particular 
point)  to  the  subscriber. 

This  theory  of  creed  subscription,  supported  by  the 
right  of  liberal  interpretation,  was  the  theory  entertained 
by  the  Faculty,  as  something  to  be  held  and  defended  by 
them  in  their  own  name  and  by  their  own  right.  The  di- 
vergence of  their  colleagues,  Professors  Thayer  and  Mead, 
was  to  the  effect  that  this  right  of  liberal  interpretation 
should  be  guaranteed  and  publicly  announced  by  the 
Boards  of  control.  In  his  speech  at  the  anniversary  dinner 
of  the  Seminary  following  his  resignation,  Professor  Thayer 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  123 

said:  "I  should  not  be  worthy  to  stay  here,  if,  holding  the 
views  I  do  respecting  the  intended  stringency  of  that 
document,  and  confirmed  as  I  am  in  these  views  by  the 
reiterated  and  persistent  reluctance  of  these  official  boards 
of  trust,  publicly  and  officially  under  their  signature,  to 
formulate  and  promulgate  the  larger  liberty  which,  in 
after-dinner  speeches,  they  seem  glad  to  encourage,  I  did 
not  go." 

The  contention  of  the  Faculty  for  personal  liberty  of 
interpretation  was  not  free  from  criticism.  It  called  out 
the  sarcasm  that  it  meant  "taking  a  creed  in  block  and 
rejecting  it  in  detail."  To  the  nautical  figure  of  Judge 
Russell,  a  former  Visitor,  that  "no  ship  was  ever  so  closely 
anchored  that  it  was  not  free  to  feel  the  rise  and  fall  of 
the  tide,"  Professor  Thayer  was  able  to  make  fairly  the 
neat  rejoinder:  "  this  means  that  while  the  Creed  remains 
fixed  like  the  anchor  down  in  the  mud,  those  made  fast  to 
it  can  move  about  pretty  much  as  they  please  provided 
they  carry  cable  enough  to  pay  out."  But  the  contention 
of  the  Faculty  was  none  the  less  the  only  reasonable  de- 
fense of  creed  subscription.  The  insistence  upon  personal 
liberty  of  interpretation  rather  than  upon  the  demand  for 
delegated  liberty  through  governing  boards,  was  of  the 
very  essence  of  theological  and  institutional  freedom.  As 
will  appear  later,  it  was  the  contention  with  which  the 
accused  professors  faced  their  accusers  at  the  "Trial," 
and  which  changed  the  whole  situation  from  that  of  per- 
sonal defense  to  an  aggressive  defense  of  the  Andover 
Creed  and  of  creed  subscription. 

Coincident  with  the  election  of  Dr.  Harris  to  the  Abbot 
Chair  of  Christian  Theology,  the  Trustees  established, 
under  endowments  which  had  already  been  accepted  ac- 


124  MY  GENERATION 

cording  to  the  "Associate"  agreement,  the  two  chairs  of 
Biblical  Theology  and  of  Biblical  History  and  Archaeology, 
each  of  great  value  in  the  existing  state  of  Biblical  criti- 
cism and  of  archaeological  research.  The  former  chair  was 
filled  by  the  election  of  Dr.  Edward  Y.  Hincks,  and  the 
latter  by  the  election  of  Dr.  John  P.  Taylor.  To  the  chairs 
of  Sacred  Literature  (Old  and  New  Testaments),  vacated 
by  Professors  Mead  and  Thayer,  the  Trustees  called  two 
recent  Fellows  of  Union  Theological  Seminary,  George 
Foot  Moore,  now  Frothingham  Professor  of  the  History  of 
Religion  at  Harvard,  and  Frank  E.  Woodruff,  who  after 
four  years  at  Andover  became  Professor  of  Greek  at 
Bowdoin.  He  was  succeeded  by  Professor  Ryder,  who 
remained  in  full  service  until  his  death  in  1918.  The 
members  of  the  Faculty  already  in  service  were  Egbert 
C.  Smyth,  Brown  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  and 
President  of  the  Faculty,  elected  in  1863;  John  Wesley 
Churchill,  Jones  Professor  of  Elocution,  elected  in  1869; 
John  P.  Gulliver,  Stone  Professor  of  Relations  of  Chris- 
tianity and  Science,  elected  in  1879;  and  William  Jewett 
Tucker,  Bartlet  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric,  elected  in 
1880.  The  Faculty  as  thus  reconstituted  remained  un- 
changed throughout  the  period  of  the  controversy. 

The  official  status  of  the  Seminary  at  the  close  of  this 
preliminary  stage  in  the  controversy  and  reorganization, 
as  represented  by  the  Board  of  Trustees,  may  be  briefly 
summarized  as  follows.  Having  been  obliged  to  give  over 
the  plan  of  establishing  a  chair  outside  the  visitorial  system 
for  the  occupancy  of  Dr.  Smyth,  which  plan  would  have 
allowed  other  free  chairs,  or  involved  a  lawsuit  for  the 
restoration  of  original  rights,  the  Trustees  adopted  the 
policy,  now  known  as  that  of  "watchful  waiting,"  looking 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  125 

to  the  one  immediate  purpose  of  giving  to  the  professors 
and  to  the  public  the  assurance  of  theological  freedom. 
Assuming  that  the  Visitors  were  sincere  in  their  "con- 
viction that  the  theological  views  of  Dr.  Smyth  were  in 
general  harmony  with  those  which  had  been  identified 
with  the  history  of  the  Andover  Seminary  from  the  be- 
ginning," and  assuming  that  they  were  sincere  in  con- 
ceding to  Dr.  Harris  full  liberty  to  sign  the  Creed,  while 
holding  the  right  to  accept  the  "theory  of  a  probation 
after  this  life  for  those  who  do  not  have  the  gospel,"  they 
proceeded  to  the  discharge  of  their  duties  in  the  further 
development  of  the  Seminary,  and  awaited  results. 

II 

The  Andover  Movement  and  the  Religious  Public 

It  was  two  years  from  the  resignation  of  Professor  Park 
to  the  inauguration  of  the  successors  of  Professors  Thayer 
and  Mead.  One  of  the  most  intelligent  and  well  informed 
of  the  religious  journals  of  the  time  was  in  the  habit  of 
referring  to  the  agitation,  which  was  carried  on  meanwhile, 
as  the  "Andover  Disturbance."  It  had  not  yet  become 
the  "Andover  Controversy."  The  distinction  was  well 
taken.  The  agitation  during  this  period  was  characterized 
by  lack  of  dignity  and  of  seriousness.  The  point  of  attack 
on  the  management  of  the  Seminary  had  been  chosen  with 
a  view  to  popular  effect.  The  attack  necessarily  took  the 
fortune  of  this  choice.  The  reaction  came  in  the  form  of 
response  most  pleasing  to  the  popular  mind.  "Second 
probation"  was  a  term  on  which  the  most  solemn  changes 
could  be  rung;  it  was  also  a  term  which  easily  lent  itself 
to  sarcastic  and  facetious  gibes.  Another  term  of  dis- 
paragement, the  "new  departure,"  became  in  the  hands 


126  MY  GENERATION 

of  the  theological  wags,  as  applied  to  the  future  state,  the 
"new  aperture."  The  general  subject  furnished  a  con- 
stantly recurring  theme  for  the  Boston  Monday  Lecture- 
ship under  the  ingenious  and  often  startling  treatment 
of  Joseph  Cook.  It  was  a  subject  which  enjoyed  in  about 
equal  proportion  the  hospitality  of  the  religious  and  the 
secular  press. 

This  early  stage  of  agitation  was  no  time  for  an  un- 
prejudiced or  thoughtful  hearing  for  the  underlying  truth 
in  question.  It  was  a  time  for  restraint  on  the  part  of  the 
Faculty.  To  have  been  drawn  into  premature  discussion 
would  have  contributed  only  to  the  confusion  of  the  hour. 
In  due  time  the  "Review,"  already  in  plan,  would  take 
up  the  subject  with  becoming  sincerity,  and  with  a  due 
sense  of  proportion,  and  bring  it  into  proper  alignment  with 
related  subjects  in  the  field  of  theological  progress.  What 
was  timely  and  in  every  way  desirable  was  some  attempt 
to  change  the  tone  of  popular  discussion.  The  one  grievous 
lack  was  seriousness.  Definition  and  argument  would 
come  later. 

It  was  in  the  sense  of  this  pressing  need  that  I  accepted 
an  invitation,  given  to  me  presumably  as  a  representative 
of  Andover,  to  preach  the  annual  sermon  at  the  meeting 
of  the  General  Association  of  the  Congregational  Churches 
of  Massachusetts  at  Fitchburg,  June  25,  1882.  In  this 
sermon,  I  determined  to  avoid  any  premature  discussion 
of  "second  probation";  to  show  rather  the  reason  and 
scope  of  the  Andover  movement,  and  above  all  to  make 
some  definite  impression  of  its  seriousness.  The  sermon 
was  based  on  the  exhortation  of  the  writer  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  (chap,  xn:  28,  29)  to  his  Jewish  brethren 
so  far  to  enlarge  their  Judaism  as  to  allow  them  "to  be- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  127 

lieve  unto  Christianity"  —  "an  exhortation,"  I  remarked, 
"which  had  its  direct  significance  for  every  generation 
like  our  own  called  upon  in  the  providence  of  God  to 
enlarge  the  scope  of  its  religious  thinking,  and  to  change 
in  any  essential  respects  its  methods."  After  showing 
what  I  believed  to  be  the  occasion  for  this  enlargement  in 
the  prevailing  theological  provincialism  of  New  England, 
I  dwelt  upon  the  qualities  necessary  to  effect  it.  "Courage 
and  seriousness,"  I  affirmed,  were  "the  qualities  necessary 
to  a  generation  through  which  in  the  providence  of  God 
any  change  is  to  be  wrought  out  in  things  touching  re- 
ligion—  courage  to  dare  to  let  in  the  larger  life  and  the 
larger  truth,  to  open  up,  to  break  up,  if  need  be,  the  formal 
for  the  incoming  of  the  more  spiritual;  seriousness  to  see 
to  it  that  every  change  is  wrought  as  'under  the  Great 
Taskmaster's  eye,'  to  see  to  it  that  religion  is  held  mean- 
while in  the  thoughts  of  men  under  the  power  of  its  eternal 
sanctions."  The  sermon  evoked  much  comment,  varying 
from  earnest  approval  to  questioning  and  condemnation. 
One  very  zealous  clergyman  wrote  me  a  long  letter  deny- 
ing every  exception  which  I  had  taken  to  the  current 
habit  of  theological  thought,  and  protesting  against  the 
publication  of  the  sermon.  I  think,  however,  that  the 
utterance  then  made  cleared  the  air  of  superficialities  and 
even  frivolities,  which  had  begun  to  mark  the  opposition 
in  certain  quarters  to  the  "Andover  Movement,"  and 
left  distinct  impression  of  its  seriousness  upon  the  minds 
alike  of  friends  and  of  opponents.  I  am  confirmed  in  this 
view  of  the  nature  of  the  impression  produced,  by  the 
following  extract  from  the  "Chicago  Advance"  which 
has  come  to  my  notice  since  the  above  paragraph  was 
written : 


128  MY  GENERATION 

At  evening  Professor  W.  J.  Tucker  delivered  a  remarkable 
sermon  at  the  Rollstone  Church  to  an  audience  that  at  times 
seemed  literally  breathless.  His  text  was  Heb.  xn:  28,  29.  He 
began  with  a  bold  defense  of  courage  as  necessary  to  Christian 
thinking,  and  a  solemn  assertion  of  seriousness,  as  equally  es- 
sential. After  a  clear,  strong  statement  of  the  spiritual  and 
intuitional,  as  opposed  to  the  mechanical  and  objective  in 
theology,  and  after  dwelling  upon  the  spirit  of  our  age  as  deeply 
conscious  of  God,  he  spoke  of  theories  of  the  future  state.  The 
sermon  will  be  printed.  It  deserves  and  will  receive  careful  read- 
ing. Some  thought  it  a  "new  Andover  platform";  others,  that 
it  marked  an  epoch  in  New  England  theology.  Others  called  it 
mystical,  and  a  few  were  utterly  dissatisfied  with  it  as  an  at- 
tempted but  inadequate  defense  of  Andover. 

The  Andover  movement  was  more  than  the  Andover 
controversy.  It  was  wider  and  deeper.  The  controversy 
was  incidental  to  the  movement,  though  a  large  and  neces- 
sary incident  as  it  proved  to  be.  It  was  to  become  in  time 
a  fight  for  theological  freedom.  The  movement  preceding 
and  permeating  the  controversy  was  a  part  of  the  general 
movement  for  the  enlargement  of  faith.  But  if  the  fight 
had  been  declined,  it  would  have  withdrawn  Andover  from 
the  movement.  It  was  difficult  to  make  this  fact  plain  to 
some  of  our  loyal  supporters  and  friends.  They  did  not 
altogether  like  the  issue  which  had  been  forced  upon  us. 
They  positively  disliked  the  label  of  "second  probation," 
overlooking  the  fact  that  the  attempt  to  fasten  an  un- 
popular term  upon  a  rising  cause  is  a  pretty  sure  sign  of 
the  recognition  of  its  vitality  and  strength.  It  was,  how- 
ever, none  the  less  desirable  to  keep  the  movement  plainly 
before  the  public  mind,  to  see  to  it  that  it  was  understood 
in  its  true  proportions,  and  above  all  that  it  was  appre- 
hended in  its  motive  and  spirit. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  129 

For  the  carrying-out  of  this  last  object,  namely,  that  of 
spiritual  impression,  very  much  depended  upon  the  per- 
sonal service  in  the  churches  rendered  by  the  men  from 
Andover,  both  Faculty  and  students.  Fortunately  the 
Faculty  at  the  time  was  to  a  considerable  extent  a  preach- 
ing faculty.  Some  of  the  professors  were  fresh  from  the 
pastorate.  The  suspicion  which  had  been  awakened  against 
Andover  did  not  debar  the  professors  from  the  pulpits  of 
the  influential  churches.  As  a  rule  the  New  England  pulpit 
was  open,  and  the  churches  hospitable  and  receptive.  Of 
course  it  would  have  been  a  breach  of  hospitality  to  have 
carried  the  controversy  into  the  pulpit,  or  to  have  used 
the  pulpit  in  any  way  as  a  medium  for  propaganda.  What 
was  fitting,  what  was  expected,  what  was  desired  was  the 
presentation  of  truth  in  the  spirit  of  the  larger  faith  and 
the  larger  hope.  The  essential  question  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  listened  to  the  Andover  preachers  was,  what  is 
the  spiritual  effect  of  their  faith  and  hope  upon  them?  Do 
they  come  nearer  to  reality,  are  they  more  vital,  can  they 
reach  the  deeper  depths  of  the  heart?  I  recall  no  unnatural- 
ness  in  the  relation  between  the  preacher  and  his  various 
audiences,  no  consciousness  of  the  representative  above 
the  personal  in  preaching.  On  the  contrary,  preaching  was 
quite  as  natural  to  me,  and  in  some  respects  more  stimulat- 
ing than  in  the  pastorate.  I  had  feared  that  the  tendency 
would  be  to  pass  insensibly  from  the  preacher  to  the  ser- 
monizer.  The  actual  effect  was  to  intensify  preaching. 
There  was  little  interruption  in  this  work  of  the  pulpit.  I 
find  in  referring  to  my  record  that  there  was  hardly  a 
Sunday  spent  at  home,  except  during  the  month  of  the 
supply  of  the  Andover  Chapel,  as  each  one  of  us  took  his 
turn  in  the  supply.  For  the  most  part  my  engagements 


130  MY  GENERATION 

covered  a  succession  of  Sundays  —  at  the  Old  South, 
Boston,  for  six  months  preceding  the  coming  of  Dr. 
Gordon;  for  an  equal  time  at  Berkeley  Temple  before  the 
coming  of  Dr.  Dickinson,  when  it  was  taking  shape  as  an 
institutional  church;  for  very  considerable  periods  at  the 
State  Street  Church,  Portland,  the  South  Church,  Salem, 
the  Kirk  Street  Church,  Lowell,  the  Central  Church, 
Boston,  the  Central  Church,  Providence,  the  United 
Church,  New  Haven;  and  frequent  preaching,  but  not  in 
succession,  in  the  various  college  pulpits. 

This  was  very  strenuous  work,  but  as  I  have  said,  it 
was  stimulating  and  in  many  ways  helpful.  The  field  be- 
came a  spiritual  and  social  laboratory.  I  returned  to  my 
classroom  not  only  quickened  in  spirit,  but  informed  at 
certain  points  in  regard  to  the  social,  industrial,  and 
economic  problems  which  faced  the  New  England  churches 
in  the  cities  and  manufacturing  towns,  and  with  which 
the  Andover  movement  had  a  practical  concern.  That 
was  to  be  one  form  of  its  application  of  "theology  to  life." 
As  I  have  intimated  in  an  earlier  chapter,  the  humanistic 
phase  of  theological  development  had  to  do  with  human 
conditions  in  this  life,  as  well  as  with  human  destiny.  Re- 
ligious effort  in  the  cities  among  the  people  in  the  segre- 
gated neighborhood  had  taken  the  form  of  the  mission. 
Some  very  satisfactory  results  had  attended  this  form  of 
religious  effort,  but  undesignedly  and  for  the  most  part 
quite  unconsciously,  it  was  leading  toward  that  process 
of  social  segregation  which  was  fast  becoming  the  acute 
problem  of  city  life.  Increasing  familiarity  with  the 
churches  gave  me  the  opportunity  not  only  of  investigat- 
ing this  problem  at  first  hand,  but  also  of  consultation 
with  the  most  active  and  intelligent  laymen.     The  results 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  131 

of  these  investigations  and  conferences  were  to  appear  in 
connection  with  courses  of  lectures  at  Andover  on  social 
economics,  and  in  the  founding  of  the  Andover  House, 
now  the  South  End  House,  in  Boston. 

The  relation  of  the  Andover  movement  to  Unitarianism 
was  naturally  a  matter  of  interest  in  New  England.  It 
never  became  a  matter  of  denominational  discussion.  The 
Unitarians  laid  no  claim  to  the  movement,  and  no  serious 
charges  of  Unitarian  tendencies  were  brought  by  the 
champions  of  the  old-time  orthodoxy.  On  the  part  of  those 
most  directly  opposed  to  Andover,  the  obsession  of  "second 
probation "  was  so  great,  that  while  it  lasted  it  limited 
the  area  of  theological  vision.  When  formal  charges  were 
brought  against  the  professors,  there  was  little  zest  in  any 
specifications  bearing  on  other  doctrinal  points,  except 
in  a  certain  way  upon  the  doctrine  of  sacred  Scripture. 
There  was,  however,  as  I  have  said,  a  very  genuine  interest 
on  the  part  of  many  Unitarians  to  know  the  attitude  of 
Andover  toward  their  body,  as  well  as  to  know  how  the 
"new"  orthodoxy  differed  from  the  "old."  An  occasion, 
the  annual  festival  of  the  Unitarian  Club  of  Boston,  which 
was  meant  primarily  to  bring  out  the  difference  between 
the  new  orthodoxy  and  the  old,  became  unexpectedly  the 
occasion  for  bringing  out  quite  distinctly  the  essential  line 
of  cleavage  between  the  new  orthodoxy  and  Unitarianism. 
Dr.  Lyman  Abbott,  Dr.  Gordon,  and  myself  had  been  in- 
vited to  speak  as  representatives  of  the  new  orthodoxy.  Dr. 
Abbott  made  the  opening  address.  He  gave  a  very  clear  and 
comprehensive  exposition  of  the  Puritan  theology  as  based 
upon  the  conception  of  the  Sovereignty  of  God,  and  ap- 
plied this  inherited  theology  to  both  the  old  and  the  new 
orthodoxy.  Toward  the  close  of  his  address,  he  gave  at 


132  MY  GENERATION 

some  length  his  personal  conception  of  the  divinity  of 
Christ  as  inherent  in  his  humanity,  because  the  divine  and 
the  human  are  one  in  essence.  To  this  utterance  both  Dr. 
Gordon  and  myself,  as  expressing  the  faith  of  the  new 
orthodoxy,  took  exception;  so  that  from  this  point  on,  the 
discussion  turned  from  the  distinction  between  the  old 
and  the  new  orthodoxy  to  the  distinction  at  the  most  vital 
point  between  the  new  orthodoxy  and  Unitarianism.  I 
give  a  brief  extract  from  my  speech  following  Dr.  Abbott's, 
and  also  from  the  speech  of  Dr.  Gordon  who  followed  me: 

I  had  not  expected  to  speak  directly  on  the  subject  that  has 
been  introduced  here  to-night  with  so  much  reverence  and  ten- 
derness; namely,  the  person  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I  think 
that  I  should  agree  with  very  much  that  Dr.  Abbott  has  said 
throughout  his  address.  I  think  there  is  a  sense  in  which  I 
should  not  agree  with  what  he  has  said  at  this  point.  We  are 
like  God;  there  are  a  great  many  things  which  are  the  same  to 
us  and  to  Him.  "Which  thing  is  true  in  Him,"  said  the  Apostle 
John,  "and  in  you."  But  there  is  a  difference.  We  are  not  God. 
Somewhere  there  is  a  line  between  man  and  God;  and  my  ques- 
tion is  this,  Did  Jesus  Christ  cross  that  line  from  below  or  did 
he  cross  it  from  above?  When  I  try  to  answer  that  question,  I 
note  this.  It  is  to  me  a  startling  peculiarity  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ  that  he  was  not  a  seeker  after  God,  that  he  was  singularly 
destitute  of  aspiration.  The  greatest  soul  in  humanity  manifests 
its  greatness  by  searching  and  reaching  out  toward  God.  Jesus 
Christ  calmly  says,  "He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father" ; 
"Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  There  must  have  been  a  sublime  conscious- 
ness, an  infinite  repose  of  knowledge,  a  conception  that  he 
knew  God  at  the  very  heart,  that  enabled  him  to  say,  as  he 
came  among  men,  "  '  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and 
that  they  might  have  it  abundantly'  —  I  want  nothing  myself: 
I  have  all  —  I  am  the  life,  and  it  is  all  for  man."  I  stand  in  awe 
before  that  marvelous  representation.  I  know  not  what  that 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  133 

life  is  unless  it  be  the  life  of  God.  I  can  find  nothing  above  it. 
It  reaches  into  the  heart  of  the  Eternal. 

Dr.  Gordon  who  followed  me  said  at  this  point: 

I  accept  the  Nicene  Creed  as  the  most  magnificent  symbol  of 
Godhead  that  has  yet  come  into  Christianity.  That,  I  under- 
stand, differentiates  me  from  my  Unitarian  brother,  whom  I 
respect  from  my  heart,  and  whose  character  may  be  beyond 
mine,  whose  services  to  the  community  I  may  be  profoundly 
thankf ul  for.  But  as  I  have  said,  those  who  accept  in  any  true 
sense  the  Nicene  Creed  are  in  their  fundamental  doctrine  of 
God,  and  inferentially  in  their  Christology,  opposed  to  and  not 
at  one  with  those  who  reject  that  creed.  .  .  .  My  profound 
conviction,  which  I  dare  to  utter  here  to-night  because  you  have 
honored  me  by  asking  me  to  do  it,  is  that  it  is  absolutely  im- 
possible, if  I  believe  in  the  integrity  of  the  records  which  give 
His  life,  for  me  to  classify  Jesus  as  simply  a  man.  He  is  un- 
classified to  me.  There  is  a  uniqueness  in  Him  which  cannot 
come  under  the  mere  category  of  man.  When  you  have  asked 
me  to  tell  you  what  that  uniqueness  is,  you  simply  step  beyond 
the  legitimate  power  of  question;  for  I  have  already  said  knowl- 
edge is  simply  classification,  and  I  have  no  class  under  which 
He  can  be  brought.  I  end  simply  on  the  line  of  thought  which 
differentiates,  in  my  judgment,  on  this  momentous  question,  the 
New  Orthodoxy  from  the  Old,  and  the  New  Orthodoxy  from 
the  Unitarian  body,  whose  history  and  character  and  manhood 
we  are  all  proud  of,  we  are  all  grateful  for. 

I  was  very  much  gratified,  as  showing  how  genuine  the 
interest  was  in  the  modern  orthodox  view  of  the  person 
of  Christ,  to  receive  after  the  meeting  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Arthur  T.  Lyman,  President  of  the  Unitarian  Club,  from 
which  I  make  the  following  extract: 

I  should  esteem  it  a  great  favor  and  privilege  if  at  the  April 
meeting  of  the  Unitarian  Club  (Wednesday,  April  13th)  you 
would  state  much  more  fully  than  when  Dr.  Abbott  spoke,  your 


134  MY  GENERATION 

views  of  the  person  of  Christ.  We  have  had  Professor  Everett 
who  stated  one  view  of  the  matter  plainly,  and  Dr.  Abbott  who 
at  the  Club  and  at  the  Lowell  Institute,  has  stated  his  view 
with  all  the  clearness  perhaps  that  it  is  capable  of.  I  take  it  that 
the  view  of  Dr.  Abbott  cannot  be  considered  to  be  the  general 
one  even  of  scholars  of  the  orthodox  Congregational  body.  I 
suppose  that  Andover  does  represent  the  modern  scholarly 
belief  of  the  orthodox  Congregationalists,  and  I  wish  that  we 
could  hear  their  view  fully  and  distinctly  stated.  As  nearly  all 
of  our  churches  grew  from  the  orthodox  Congregational  root, 
we  naturally  and  in  fact  feel  a  greater  interest  in  that  body  of 
Christians  than  in  any  other. 

It  was  with  sincere  regret  that  I  was  obliged  to  decline 
this  generous  invitation,  but  I  found  much  satisfaction  in 
personal  conversation  on  the  subject  writh  Mr.  Lyman, 
whom  I  came  to  know  with  some  intimacy  and  with  a 
constantly  increasing  esteem,  through  rather  frequent 
preaching  at  King's  Chapel,  where  Mr.  Lyman  was  Chair- 
man of  the  Church  Committee.  King's  Chapel  held  so 
unique  a  place  in  his  judgment  in  the  Unitarian  body, 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  persuade  him 
that  a  man  of  my  views  of  the  person  of  Christ  could  not 
consistently  allow  himself  to  entertain  the  thought  of 
considering  the  pastorate  of  that  church. 

Had  I  been  able  to  accept  Mr.  Lyman's  invitation  to 
discuss  at  length  before  the  Unitarian  Club  my  conception 
of  the  person  of  Christ,  I  should  have  based  my  reasoning 
on  the  distinction  drawn  by  the  editor  of  the  "Christian 
Register  "  between  the  orthodox  and  the  LTnitarian  method 
of  approach  to  the  subject;  that  whereas  "Orthodoxy  even 
in  its  newest  phase  approaches  the  problem  of  (His)  exist- 
ence from  the  side  of  God,  modern  Unitarianism  is  dis- 
posed to  look  first  at  the  known  and  near  facts;  it  studies 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  135 

man;  its  aims  and  hopes  are  to  search  God  through  man." 
I  should  have  accepted  that  distinction  as  fundamental, 
involving  a  radical  difference  of  view  respecting  the  Scrip- 
tures. To  my  mind  the  person  of  Christ  represents  God 
revealed,  not  God  attained.  There  is  great  significance  to 
me  in  the  saying  of  Lacordaire  —  "Jesus  Christ  is  the 
greatest  spiritual  phenomenon  ever  naturalized  in  this 
world."  I  have  elsewhere  brought  out  my  conception  of 
the  person  of  Christ  in  two  monographs  —  one  entitled 
"Life  in  Himself,  a  Meditation  on  the  Consciousness  of 
Jesus,"  preached  as  a  Christmas  sermon  (1891)  in  the  First 
Church,  Cambridge,  repeated  in  Andover  Chapel  the 
following  month,  and  published  as  an  article  in  the  "An- 
dover Review"  for  February,  1892;  the  other,  entitled 
"The  Satisfaction  of  Humanity  in  Jesus  Christ,"  an 
editorial  in  a  series  on  "The  Divinity  of  Christ"  in  the 
"Andover  Review"  (January,  1893),  forming  the  last 
chapter  in  the  book  under  that  title. 

As  the  controversial  situation  developed,  there  was 
special  need  of  an  authorized  and  adequate  organ  of 
communication  with  the  religious  public,  one  that  should 
afford  some  security  against  misrepresentation,  one  that 
should  enable  the  Seminary  to  fulfill  its  part  in  the  theo- 
logical advancement  of  the  time.  Some  of  our  supporters 
strongly  advocated  the  establishment  of  a  religious  news- 
paper, but  this  project  seemed  to  us  to  be  inadequate,  and 
in  other  respects  unsuitable.  It  was  fraught  with  unpleas- 
ant liabilities.  As  one  of  our  most  sagacious  graduates,  Pro- 
fessor Palmer,  of  Harvard,  wrote  us,  with  a  wit  savoring 
of  wisdom,  "A  religious  newspaper  is  not  necessarily 
wicked,  but  it  is  quite  likely  to  be  such  in  fact."  The  pub- 
lication to  emanate  from  a  Seminary,  according  to  tradi- 


136  MY  GENERATION 

tion  and  fitness,  was  a  Review,  but  in  our  case  it  should 
be  a  Monthly,  not  the  conventional  Quarterly.  The  way 
had  been  prepared  for  such  a  publication,  without  local 
rivalry  or  controversy,  by  the  transfer  of  the  "Bibliotheca 
Sacra,"  for  nearly  forty  years  under  the  editorial  direction 
of  Professor  Park,  to  the  associate  editor,  Dr.  George  F. 
Wright,  and  the  removal  to  Oberlin  where  Dr.  Wright 
was  Professor  of  New  Testament  Literature.  At  the  close 
of  1883,  the  following  prospectus  of  the  "Andover  Review" 
was  put  out  stating  its  purpose  and  method: 

The  publication  of  a  new  Religious  and  Theological  Review 
with  this  title,  will  be  commenced  in  December  of  the  present 
year.  While  it  will  appeal  to  professional  readers,  it  will  address 
itself  directly  to  the  religious  public. 

The  Review  will  advocate  the  principles  and  represent  the 
method  and  spirit  of  progressive  Orthodoxy.  Accepting  the 
distinction  between  theology  and  practical  religion,  the  Editors 
will  seek  to  utilize  the  gains  to  theology  from  the  accredited 
results  of  scholarship  in  Biblical  and  historical  criticism;  and 
also  to  show  the  obligations  of  theology  to  the  social  and  re- 
ligious life  of  the  time.  The  object  of  the  Review  will  not  be 
controversy,  nor  mere  speculation.  The  editors  hope  to  make 
it  a  positive  and  constructive  force  in  the  sphere  of  opinion 
and  belief.  Recognizing,  however,  the  fact  that  no  age  can  hon- 
orably refuse  to  face  the  more  serious  problems  which  confront 
it,  there  will  be  no  hesitancy  in  candidly  investigating  and  dis- 
cussing the  vital  questions  of  the  present.  The  Andover  Re- 
view finds  a  reason  for  its  establishment  in  the  number  and 
urgency  of  these  questions. 

The  Andover  Review  will  be  under  the  editorial  control  of 
Egbert  C.  Smyth  J.  W.  Churchill 

William  J.  Tucker  George  Harris 

Edward  Y.  Hincks 
Professors  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  Andover,  Mass., 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  137 

with  the  cooperation  and  active  support  of  their  colleagues  in 
the  Faculty  —  Professors  John  P.  Gulliver,  John  P.  Taylor, 
George  F.  Moore,  and  Frank  E.  Woodruff. 

The  Andover  Review  will  be  published  monthly  at  $3.00 
a  year;  single  copy,  30  cents. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company 
4  Park  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

As  the  prospectus  indicates,  the  "Review"  was  not 
issued  under  the  management  or  the  direct  sanction  of 
the  Trustees,  nor  was  the  whole  Faculty  to  be  equally 
responsible.  The  five  named  as  editors  assumed  directly 
the  editorial,  and  indirectly  the  financial  responsibility, 
but  their  colleagues  cooperated  with  them  steadily  and 
heartily.  Of  special  value  were  the  contributions  of  Pro- 
fessor Moore,  covering  a  wide  range  of  critical  scholarship, 
and  the  Archaeological  Notes  of  Professor  Taylor.  I  men- 
tion also  a  co-worker  whose  name  does  not  appear  on  the 
cover,  but  often  within,  —  Professor  C.  C.  Starbuck,  — 
not  formally  connected  with  the  Seminary,  but  a  scholar 
of  such  erudition,  and  a  man  of  such  wide  and  ready  in- 
formation, that  as  I  look  back  upon  some  of  our  editorial 
emergencies,  I  doubt  if  we  could  have  escaped  without 
his  ever  ready  and  always  sufficient  aid.  His  range  as  an 
authority  on  religious  subjects  ran  from  the  more  intricate 
workings  of  the  Roman  propaganda,  to  the  remotest  oper- 
ations of  the  foreign  missionary  boards. 

Among  the  contributors  then  and  soon  often  announced, 
who  were  really  identified  with  the  "Review"  as  its  sup- 
porters, were  very  many  representative  scholars  and 
writers  of  the  liberal  type  of  theology.  The  "Review" 
served  to  call  out  and  in  a  sense  to  organize  the  advocates 
of  theological  freedom  and  progress  within  the  so-called 


138  MY  GENERATION 

orthodox  bodies.  A  curious  incident,  showing  the  unre- 
liability of  early  associations  in  determining  new  align- 
ments, came  up  in  connection  with  a  question  of  Mr. 
Houghton  (Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Company)  about  our  list 
of  contributors.  "Would  you  accept  articles,"  he  said, 
"from  such  men  as  James  Freeman  Clarke  and  William 
G.  T.  Shedd?"  Noticing  our  surprise  at  this  collocation  of 
names,  he  reminded  us  that  he  and  Dr.  Shedd  were  class- 
mates at  the  University  of  Vermont  under  President 
Marsh,  the  most  pronounced  disciple  of  Coleridge  in  this 
country.  Both  of  them  imbibed  the  philosophical  teach- 
ings of  the  classroom.  To  the  mind  of  Mr.  Houghton  that 
fact  ought  to  have  fixed  the  theological  position  of  his 
classmate  in  current  discussions  —  a  wide  miscalculation. 

The  Andover  Review  Company,  Incorporated,  in- 
cluded a  considerable  number  of  prominent  laymen  in 
New  England,  among  whom  were  Rowland  Hazard, 
Alpheus  Hardy,  Samuel  Johnson,  S.  D.  Warren,  Horace 
Fairbanks,  John  N.  Denison,  F.  W.  Carpenter,  A.  D. 
Lockwood,  W.  W.  Brown,  S.  R.  Payson,  S.  L.  Ward, 
Henry  Woods,  Edward  A.  Strong. 

We  were  much  indebted  to  our  publishers,  not  only  for 
the  guarantee  which  their  name  gave  to  the  general  char- 
acter and  quality  of  the  "Review,"  but  also  for  their 
personal  interest  in  the  venture.  It  was  a  gratification  to 
us,  for  their  sakes  as  well  as  for  our  own,  that  they  were 
soon  able  to  make  the  following  announcement  regarding 
its  reception: 

The  Andover  Review  is  the  recognized  representative, 
among  the  reviews,  of  progress  in  the  advocacy  of  the  Christian 
faith.  Its  contributors  and  readers  are  from  the  growing  con- 
stituency of  clergymen  and  laymen  in  the  various  denominations, 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  139 

who  believe  that  the  safety  of  the  Church  and  its  power  lie  in 
the  resolute  advancement  of  Christian  doctrine  in  its  broadest 
application  to  the  problems  of  society.  The  Review  is  open 
to  the  discussion  of  all  subjects  of  social,  educational,  and  lit- 
erary importance,  which  are  germane  to  the  moral  and  religious 
life  of  the  people.  As  an  evidence  of  the  scope  and  interest  of  its 
articles,  it  may  be  stated  that  The  Review  is  taken  in  250 
College  and  Public  Libraries  throughout  the  country. 

Notices  from  the  press  followed  from  time  to  time,  of 
which  examples  are  given  in  the  accompanying  footnote.1 

The  distinguishing  feature  of  the  "Review"  as  a  re- 
ligious and  theological  magazine  was  its  use  of  the  editorial. 
In  this  respect  it  was  an  innovation  upon  existing  usage. 

1  The  Andover  Review  comes  near  to  being  an  ideal  religious  magazine.  We 
know  of  no  other  similar  publication  that  more  faithfully  represents  the  dom- 
inant convictions  of  the  great  masses  of  Christian  people  concerning  the  life, 
duty,  and  conduct  of  practical  religion.  —  The  Churchman  (New  York). 

There  is  no  abler  or  more  discriminating  publication  than  the  Andover  Review. 
There  is  none  which  the  wide-awake  minister  can  so  little  afford  to  be  without, 
and  whoever,  minister  or  layman,  is  long  conversant  with  this  monthly  must 
become  an  intelligent  and  progressive  Christian.  —  Zion's  Herald  (Boston). 

The  Andover  Review  more  than  fulfills  its  high  promise.  Liberal  and  progressive 
in  its  tone,  religious  questions  of  vital  interest  are  discussed  in  a  thoughtful 
spirit  by  some  of  the  ablest  writers  of  the  time.  —  The  Week  (Toronto). 

In  these  days  when  a  coarse  and  blatant  infidelity  is  too  often  opposed  by 
nothing  stronger  than  a  weak  religionism,  it  is  refreshing  to  read  a  religious 
periodical  like  the  Andover  Review.  It  is  at  once  a  manly  organ  of  essential  or- 
thodoxy, and  an  honest  exponent  of  the  legitimate  conclusions  of  modern  re- 
ligious thought.  .  .  .  The  editorial  articles  of  the  Review  are  admirable.  —  New 
York  Tribune. 

The  editorials  in  the  Andover  Review  are  an  important  feature.  Written 
mostly  by  the  professors  at  Andover,  they  touch  the  nerve  of  the  religious  con- 
sciousness of  our  time.  —  Boston  Herald. 

One  of  the  foremost  of  American  religious  magazines.  The  Review  is  con- 
ducted with  conspicuous  ability,  and  numbers  among  its  contributors  many  of 
the  most  eminent  thinkers  of  the  day.  —  Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

It  is  almost  necessary  for  any  paper  that  tries  to  keep  apace  with  advanced 
thought  as  well  as  with  the  occurrences  of  the  time  to  draw  fully  on  the  inspira- 
tion in  the  Andover  Review.  —  Editor  of  a  leading  daily  paper. 

It  has  been  the  means  of  furnishing  more  inspiration,  higher  ideals,  a  more 
determined  purpose  in  the  work  of  the  ministry,  than  almost  anything  else 
which  has  been  published.  —  A  New  England  Pastor. 


140  MY  GENERATION 

But  a  Review  consisting  exclusively  of  contributed  articles, 
however  valuable  in  themselves,  could  not  give  that  direct 
and  intimate  contact  with  the  religious  public  which  the 
circumstances  demanded.  The  editorial  was  capable  of  a 
directive  force  impossible  in  any  collection  of  articles.  And 
as  embodying  in  a  more  distinct  and  continuous  way  the 
personal  element,  it  invited  a  sympathetic  reading.  Of 
course  there  was  danger  in  the  exercise  of  editorial  freedom. 
It  was  obviated  in  part,  in  the  present  case,  by  the  fact 
that  the  editorial  utterance  was  that  of  a  group  rather 
than  that  of  an  individual.  Still  there  were  liabilities.  One 
day,  during  the  trial  of  the  accused  professors,  a  very 
stanch  friend  of  the  Seminary  said  to  me  in  good-humored 
impatience,  "The  trouble  has  all  come  out  of  your  con- 
founded editorials."  "Perhaps  so,"  I  replied,  "but  have 
you  thought  that  it  is  much  more  likely  that  the  out- 
spokenness of  the  'Review'  prevented  an  inquisition  in 
the  classroom?" 

As  the  event  proved,  the  use  made  of  the  editorial  was 
justified  by  two  distinct  advantages  which  it  conferred. 
First,  it  enabled  the  "Review"  to  carry  out  a  definite 
and  consistent  purpose  as  an  interpreter  of  progressive 
orthodoxy.  Not  all  the  advocates  of  theological  progress 
emphasized  the  same  points.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of  Andover 
to  emphasize  the  need  of  a  restatement  of  the  distinctive 
Christian  truths  in  the  more  enlarged  terms  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  attack  upon  Andover  was  in  reality  a  chal- 
lenge to  this  task.  The  particular  question  which  had  been 
forced  upon  the  Seminary  was  not  to  be  evaded  when 
once  the  conditions  were  ripe  for  its  discussion. 

The  opening  words  of  the  first  issue  of  the  "Review," 
in  the  introductory  article  by  Professor  Smyth,  were  a 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  141 

quotation  from  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  early  Christians 
—  "Let  us  learn  to  live  according  to  Christianity  ...  for 
Christianity  did  not  believe  into  Judaism,  but  Judaism 
into  Christianity,  that  every  tongue  which  believes  might 
be  gathered  together  unto  God."  "These  memorable 
words,"  said  Professor  Smyth,  "define  the  theological  as 
well  as  the  ethical  and  practical  purpose  of  this  Review. 
They  connect  theology  with  life.  They  point  out  the 
path  to  unity  of  religious  belief.  They  suggest  the  need 
and  indicate  the  method  of  a  Christian  construction  of 
Christian  doctrine.  Let  us  learn  to  think  according  to 
Christianity."  In  their  endeavor  to  realize  the  theologi- 
cal significance  of  this  sentiment  in  the  conduct  of  the 
"Review,"  the  editors  laid  down  the  postulate  that  "the 
true  and  ultimate  test  of  all  theological  progress  is  its 
Christianization  of  its  materials  from  whatever  source  they 
may  be  derived."  All  advance,  that  is,  in  Christian  doctrine 
depends  upon*  the  willingness  to  recognize  and  the  ability 
to  use  the  advances  in  Christian  knowledge. 

With  reference  to  several  of  the  topics  to  be  considered  by  us 
[they  say],  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  as  distinct,  specific 
and  absorbing  questions  of  theological  discussion  they  belong 
to  the  modern  era.  .  .  . 

The  question,  What  is  the  Bible?  could  not  earlier  be  inves- 
tigated as  in  recent  days,  for  lack,  apart  from  other  reasons,  of 
the  requisite  critical  apparatus.  The  doctrine  of  the  Atonement 
even  in  so  late  a  Confession  as  the  Westminster  —  the  last  of 
the  great  historic  creeds  —  is  merged  in  the  larger  doctrine  of 
Redemption.  Many  questions  in  eschatology,  now  rife,  have 
never  until  recently  received  thorough  consideration.  The  special 
inquiry  as  to  the  relation  of  Christ's  Person,  sacrifice,  final 
judgment,  to  those  who  never  hear  the  gospel  in  this  life  is  be- 
coming more  and  more  urgent  and  important,  because  it  is  the 
next  and  necessary  one,  now  that  the  Atonement  has  become  a 


142  MY  GENERATION 

distinct  and  specific  doctrine,  and  the  interpretation  has  won 
general  approval  that  it  has  an  absolutely  universal  relation 
and  intent.  We  claim  in  that  portion  of  our  work  which  will 
naturally  attract  the  most  criticism,  to  be  pursuing  the  path 
opened  by  our  predecessors  in  vindicating  the  now  accepted 
truth  that  Christ's  sacrifice  on  Calvary  was  for  every  man.  It  is 
a  reasonable  request  that  this  connection  and  relation  of  what 
we  have  to  say  on  eschatology  should  be  kept  in  view,  and  that 
the  conclusions  reached  should  be  tested  by  their  harmony 
with  the  revelation  given  in  and  through  the  Incarnation.  The 
ultimate  question  between  conflicting  opinions  must  be,  Which 
most  perfectly  appropriates  the  grace  and  truth  revealed  in 
Christ?  We  do  not  decline  the  test  of  orthodoxy,  but  it  is  ob- 
vious that,  with  reference  to  inquiries  which  could  not  arise  at 
an  earlier  stage  of  Christian  knowledge  or  doctrinal  develop- 
ment, and  which  have  never  been  adjudicated  upon  ecclesiasti- 
cally because  never  fully  opened  for  discussion,  the  question  of 
orthodoxy  happily  merges  in  the  more  profitable  question  of  truth. 

In  due  time  the  subjects  in  Christian  doctrine  here  re- 
ferred to  were  taken  up  editorially  in  the  "Review."  The 
editorials  soon  reappeared  as  chapters  in  the  book  entitled 
"Progressive  Orthodoxy,"  and  were  made  the  basis  of 
charges  in  the  heresy  trial  which  followed.  As  showing 
how  fully  the  idea  of  unity  and  consistency  of  treatment 
was  realized,  I  append  to  the  subjects  which  form  the 
headings  of  the  chapters  the  names  of  the  writers: 

The  Incarnation,  Smyth. 

The  Atonement,  Harris. 

Eschatology,  Harris. 

The  Work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  related  to 

the  Historic  Christ,  Tucker. 
The  Christian,  Tucker. 
Christianity  and  Missions,  Smyth. 
The  Scriptures,  Hincks. 
Christianity  Absolute  and  Universal,  Harris. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  143 

It  may  be  a  matter  of  interest  to  some  to  know,  in  view 
of  the  issue  of  the  trial  of  the  various  writers  before  the 
Board  of  Visitors,  that  the  specifications  on  which  Pro- 
fessor Smyth  was  condemned  and  the  others  were  ac- 
quitted, were  mostly  taken  from  the  chapters  written  by 
the  other  professors.  Of  course  the  equal  responsibility  for 
the  book  was  shared  by  all  the  writers,  but  the  analysis 
given  shows  the  grotesqueness  as  well  as  the  injustice  of 
the  decision. 

A  second  series  of  theological  editorials  followed  at  a 
later  stage,  which  was  also  put  into  a  book  under  the  title 
"The  Divinity  of  Christ."  In  introducing  this  series,  the 
editors  say: 

Nearly  eight  years  ago  we  found  a  similar  practical  call  for  an 
application  of  a  great  principle  of  Christianity,  that  of  its  uni- 
versality to  various  doctrinal  and  missionary  problems  of  the 
day.  The  papers  thus  elicited  were  afterwards  gathered  together 
in  a  little  volume  entitled  "Progressive  Orthodoxy."  In  it  the 
opinion  was  expressed  that  the  question  which  "lies  nearest  the 
heart  of  all  modern  Christian  thought  and  life  is  .  .  .  Ts  the  Jesus 
whose  life  we  know  on  its  human  side  the  Christ  in  whom  re- 
ligious faith  finds  its  appropriate  and  permanently  satisfying 
object?  ' "  And  we  added  as  expressive  of  our  own  conviction  — 
"The  Jesus  of  history  is  the  Christ  of  faith;  the  Christ  of  faith 
is  God  revealed  and  known."  The  chapters  which  follow  will 
deal  especially  with  the  question  thus  proposed. 

Another  use  of  the  editorial,  which  proved  to  be  of  equal 
advantage,  was  that  it  enabled  the  "Review"  to  take  an 
active  and  timely  part  in  those  phases  of  the  controversy 
which  were  not  under  the  restriction  of  the  visitatorial  or 
legal  procedure.  The  formal  attack  upon  the  accused  pro- 
fessors virtually  brought  the  "case"  down  to  the  charge 
of  violating  their  obligation  to  the  Andover  Creed.  It  left 


144  MY  GENERATION 

the  larger  theological  issues  in  the  open,  a  matter  of  free 
discussion.  It  was  however,  given  a  new  setting  as  it 
was  appropriated  and  taken  in  charge  by  such  advocates 
of  foreign  missions  as  held  that  the  Andover  theory  had 
"cut  the  nerve  of  missions."  The  American  Board,  at  that 
time  a  close  corporation,  was  taken  possession  of  and 
made  the  chief  agency  for  continuing  the  theological 
attack  upon  Andover.  It  was  a  tactical  mistake.  It  in- 
vited and  aroused  a  vigorous  counter-attack  on  the  part 
of  the  whole  liberal  element  in  the  denomination  which 
supported  the  Board,  whether  it  was  affiliated  with  An- 
dover or  not.  It  made  the  platform  of  the  American  Board 
the  arena  of  a  conflict,  wider  in  its  interests  and  more  in- 
tense in  its  character  than  that  which  was  then  going  on  in 
the  courts.  In  this  conflict  the  "Review"  could  properly 
bear  its  part,  and  this  it  was  able  to  do  with  continuous 
and  cumulative  effect  through  its  editorial  pages.  The 
conditions  were  now  reversed.  The  opposers  of  Andover 
were  put  upon  the  defensive.  They  had  put  themselves 
upon  the  defensive  in  the  new  responsibilities  which  they 
had  assumed.  The  original  dogma  of  "the  universal  per- 
dition of  the  heathen,"  which  had  been  put  forth  as  "the 
real  basis  of  missions,"  had  caused  a  growing  revolt  of 
the  Christian  conscience  among  the  friends  of  missions. 
What  relieving  theory  could  be  held  which  should  at  once 
justify  and  stimulate  the  work  of  missions?  Andover  had 
claimed  "that  the  Christianity  of  the  Bible  points  to  a 
Christian  opportunity  for  the  race,  that  it  lifts  the  race  to 
the  place  of  grace."  It  substituted  hope  for  despair  as  the 
motive  for  missions.  It  affirmed  the  justice  of  a  true  Chris- 
tian opportunity  to  every  man  before  he  should  pass  under 
the  final  judgment.  To  this  definite  and  satisfying  reliev- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  145 

ing  theory,  it  now  became  necessary  that  some  reply 
should  be  made.  It  was  no  longer  enough  to  deny  it  or 
denounce  those  who  held  it.  What  could  take  its  place? 
The  only  relief  actually  offered  was  such  as  might  be  found 
in  the  theory  of  "the  essential  Christ,"  a  vague  and 
shadowy  doctrine  lacking  the  force  of  reality,  as  it  was  in 
its  nature  destitute  of  the  power  of  motive.  Furthermore, 
the  controversy  was  now  carried  on,  not  through  dis- 
cussion alone,  but  through  "cases,"  as  young  men  and 
young  women  made  application  for  missionary  service 
under  the  Board,  where  careful  note  could  be  made  of 
the  questions  to  which  they  were  subjected,  outside  and 
beyond  the  standards  of  the  churches  that  they  repre- 
sented, and  where  the  grounds  of  their  rejection,  if  for 
theological  reasons,  could  be  put  before  the  religious 
public.  And  finally,  the  controversy  reached  the  point 
where  the  Board  was  obliged  to  answer  to  its  "relation 
to  the  churches  —  whether  it  was  that  of  domination  or 
of  dependence."  In  such  terms,  the  controversy  ran  month 
after  month  through  the  "Review,"  turning,  if  not  away 
from  Andover,  yet  into  new  channels  and  toward  a  new 
outlet  —  with  what  effect  will  appear  in  the  concluding 
section  of  this  chapter. 

To  these  advantages  which  the  use  of  the  editorial  gave 
to  the  "  Review  "  in  the  part  taken  by  the  editors  in  the 
controversy,  I  may  fitly  add  the  effect  of  editorial  writing 
upon  the  editors  themselves.  It  gave  a  certain  directness 
and  naturalness  to  their  professorial  work.  It  was  a  cor- 
rective to  any  tendency  to  scholasticism.  It  had  also  a 
broadening  effect  in  compelling  a  wider  knowledge  of 
current  topics  than  merely  professorial  interest  would 
require.  The  range  of  subjects  which  came  under  legiti- 


146  MY  GENERATION 

mate,  if  not  necessary,  editorial  treatment  was  large.  It 
was  impossible  to  have  a  narrow  outlook  upon  the  human 
aspects  of  religion,  or  to  take  a  narrow  view  of  the  in- 
creasingly sensitive  "contacts"  of  theology  with  life. 

There  was  a  phase  of  the  Andover  editorship  worthy  of 
special  recall  in  any  autobiographical  notes,  namely  the 
personal  relations  of  the  editors.  The  editorial  work  of  the 
"Review"  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  team-work.  It  brought 
together  men  for  a  distinct,  and  as  they  believed  for  an 
imperative,  task.  Rut  as  it  happened,  they  were  men  of 
congenial  thought  and  temper,  and  as  they  became  more 
committed  to  their  work  they  became  more  devoted  to 
one  another.  The  intimacies  of  friendship  grew  with  the 
increase  of  responsibilities.  Each  man  kept  his  individual- 
ity, but  all  felt  alike  the  educating  effect  of  their  asso- 
ciated work  —  the  training  away  from  mere  scholasticism, 
the  discipline  of  trying  to  connect  theology  with  life,  and 
perhaps  more  than  all  else  the  sympathetic  sense  of  the 
relations  and  interrelations  of  religious  truth. 

Professor  Smyth,  to  whom  I  shall  refer  later  as  the  out- 
standing figure  of  the  group  in  the  trial  for  heresy,  was 
editor-in-chief,  and  for  the  most  part  the  managing  editor 
—  a  man  of  profound  convictions,  broad-minded,  but 
capable  of  an  intense  single-mindedness  in  the  pursuit  of 
a  given  end;  an  honorable  opponent,  but  dangerous  be- 
cause so  sure  of  his  premises  and  supporting  facts;  a  scholar 
without  the  affectations  of  learning;  a  man  of  moral  fiber 
coupled  with  a  rare  tenderness  of  spirit;  always  sincere, 
at  times  ardent  in  expression.  Though  lacking  somewhat 
in  the  "imaginative"  quality  of  his  brother  Newman,  his 
thought  was  imbued  with  a  certain  power  of  sentiment, 
which  if  not  a  substitute  for  the  imaginative  quality,  gave 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  147 

a  penetrating  as  well  as  carrying  force  to  his  utterances 
and  writings.  To  those  who  knew  him  intimately,  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  note  how  easily  his  mind  found  rest  and  sat- 
isfaction in  his  aesthetic  sense,  whether  directed  toward 
nature  or  religious  art. 

Professor  Harris  was  the  most  versatile  of  our  group. 
Richly  endowed  with  the  philosophic  temperament  and 
well  trained  in  the  philosophic  habit,  he  was  always  lucid 
and  sane.  But  his  range  of  observation  was  so  wide,  and 
his  observations  so  quick  and  keen,  that  he  was  as  in- 
valuable in  the  discussion  of  current  questions  of  moral 
and  religious  import  as  in  the  treatment  of  theological 
topics.  Moreover,  his  style  was  delightfully  self -revealing. 
It  photographed  his  mind  in  the  free  play  of  his  action, 
catching  the  shades  of  humor  which  came  and  went  with 
the  ready  flow  of  his  thought.  Many  of  the  more  general 
subjects  of  which  the  "Review"  took  note  might  have 
been  assigned  indiscriminately  to  either  Professor  Harris 
or  to  myself.  As  I  have  been  looking  over  the  editorials  of 
this  class  and  have  been  unable  to  identify  the  authorship 
of  some  one  of  them  by  subject,  it  has  usually  been  easy 
to  identify  it  by  style.  Whenever  it  has  shown  some  pe- 
culiar incisiveness,  some  deftness  of  touch,  some  statement 
carrying  its  evidence  on  its  very  face,  I  have  known  that 
the  editorial  in  question  belonged  to  him  rather  than  to 
me.  The  great  characteristic  of  Professor  Harris's  contro- 
versial method  was  its  unanswerable  reasonableness.  He 
never  lost  his  poise.  Controversy  never  jostled  his  mind. 
His  mental  machinery  was  never  thrown  out  of  gear. 
To  argue  against  him  was  as  if  to  argue  against  things 
fundamental  —  common  sense,  reason,  and  self-evident 
truth. 


148  MY  GENERATION 

Professor  Hincks  was  remarkably  adapted  to  meet  the 
unusual  requirements  of  his  department,  Biblical  Theol- 
ogy, and  to  give  the  right  public  exposition  of  them  in  the 
"Review."  The  work  of  Biblical  Criticism  required  at  that 
time  a  genuine  combination  in  the  Biblical  critic  of  con- 
servatism and  radicalism  —  of  radicalism  rather  than  of 
simple  progressiveness,  because  it  was  not  simply  work 
in  advance  of  what  had  gone  before  in  the  same  general 
department,  but  relatively  new  work,  work  at  the  roots. 
Professor  Hincks  was  both  a  conservative  and  a  radical. 
His  conservatism  lay  in  the  depth  of  his  spiritual  nature, 
in  his  sense  of  the  value  of  truth  spiritually  discerned 
through  humility  and  reverence;  his  radicalism  lay  in  the 
fiber  and  temper  of  his  mind,  a  mind  entirely  capable  of 
facing  facts,  so  downright  and  determinedly  honest  that 
nothing  could  stop  it  on  its  way  to  a  decision  according  to 
evidence.  The  editorial  writing  of  Professor  Hincks  was 
by  no  means  limited  to  the  treatment  of  subjects  connected 
with  his  department  (he  had  made  himself  quite  an 
authority  on  certain  phases  of  English  politics),  but  his 
editorials  on  Biblical  subjects  carried  the  weight  of  rever- 
ence and  honesty.  Supported  by  the  contributed  articles 
of  Professor  Moore,  they  gave  the  "Review"  standing 
among  the  then  modern  Biblical  scholars. 

Personally,  Professor  Hincks  brought  to  his  associates 
the  very  enjoyable  qualities  of  ready  wit  and  of  an  equally 
unconscious  humor.  One  day  during  the  legal  trial,  as 
several  of  us  were  starting  for  Boston  to  listen  to  the  argu- 
ment of  Professor  Gray,  of  the  Harvard  Law  School,  before 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Massachusetts,  Professor  Hincks 
boarded  the  train  at  the  last  moment  holding  a  child  in 
his  arms  and  leading  another  by  the  hand.  "  ^Yhy,  Hincks," 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  149 

I  said,  "what  under  heavens  are  you  taking  the  children 
along  for?"  "To  appeal  to  the  sympathy  of  the  jury." 

We  each  had  bound  sets  of  the  "Review"  in  which  we 
took  quite  a  little  pride,  his  bound  with  a  blue  morocco 
back,  and  mine  with  a  red.  One  volume  as  it  came  back 
to  me  was  badly  marked  and  disfigured  by  interlinings 
and  erasures.  As  these  were  mostly  in  one  of  his  editorials, 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing  the  markings  to  their  source. 
Upon  showing  him  the  volume,  I  said  that  they  must 
have  mixed  our  copies  at  the  bindery.  "Why,  yes,  so  they 
have;  but  never  mind,  I  can  copy  the  markings  into  my 
set.  It  won't  be  much  trouble."  I  value  that  "marked 
copy"  as  the  most  pleasing  human  document  in  my  pos- 
session. 

Professor  Churchill  was  a  liberal.  Liberalism  stood  for 
breadth  before  and  after  the  progressive  movement  was 
inaugurated.  If  Professor  Churchill  had  been  an  English- 
man he  would  have  been  identified  with  the  Broad  Church. 
His  affiliations  were  with  those  of  that  type  of  thought 
and  faith  in  this  country.  "Liberal"  and  "progressive" 
are  not  exactly  equivalent  terms.  There  may  be  breadth 
without  much  movement,  and  any  given  advance  may  be 
narrow  and  specialized.  But  liberal  may  be  regarded  as  the 
more  inclusive  term.  So  it  certainly  should  be  regarded  as 
I  apply  it  to  Professor  Churchill.  He  was  not  a  strenuous 
advocate  of  the  Andover  tenet  of  a  Christian  probation. 
He  simply  accorded  it  the  rights  of  hospitality  in  his  theo- 
logical holdings.  In  defining  his  position  before  the  Board 
of  Visitors,  he  said:  "I  earnestly  claim  for  my  colleagues 
their  liberty  of  opinion,  teaching,  and  discussion  concern- 
ing this  hypothesis.  More  than  this  I  believe  that  there  is 
reason  and  Scripture  in  it.  But  I  have  not  yet  found  the 


150  MY  GENERATION 

term  'probation'  a  necessity  for  my  theology  or  my  view 
of  life  here  or  hereafter."  According  to  the  more  dis- 
tinctive liberal  theology,  he  preferred  to  regard  the  earthly 
life  as  a  period  of  "moral  education."  The  work  of  Pro- 
fessor Churchill  on  the  "Review"  was  mainly  on  subjects 
to  be  classed  under  "Literature  and  Life."  His  contribu- 
tions were  in  many  instances  very  careful  studies.  Such, 
for  example,  were  his  editorials  on  Matthew  Arnold, 
Wendell  Phillips,  Phillips  Brooks,  Bishop  Simpson,  and 
others  in  like  relation  to  public  life. 

Professor  Churchill  was  an  Andover  man,  to  the  manner 
bred  if  not  born,  a  graduate  of  Phillips  Academy  as  well 
as  of  the  Seminary  and  a  teacher  in  both  from  the  time  of 
his  graduation.  My  intimacy  with  him  began  in  our  student 
days  in  the  Seminary,  and  was  maintained  during  the 
intervening  years,  till  it  was  resumed  in  the  close  com- 
panionship of  our  service  as  colleagues  in  the  homiletical 
department.  He  was  a  great  friend.  I  never  knew  a  man 
with  a  greater  capacity  for  friendship.  It  was  the  kind  of 
friendship  to  lighten  labor,  to  stimulate  to  good  thoughts 
and  good  acts,  to  help  one  to  keep  faith  in  human  nature. 

I  have  introduced  these  brief  personal  sketches  of  my 
editorial  colleagues  as  having  a  fit  place  in  autobiograph- 
ical notes,  for  the  personal  relations  which  the  ten  years 
of  editorial  service  established  were  intimate  and  lasting. 
Not  long  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of  the  group, 
who  like  myself  had  gone  over  in  later  years  into  admin- 
istrative service,  in  which  referring  to  the  "good  old  days 
of  the  Andover  Review,"  he  added,  "Not  that  I  would  say 
the  former  days  were  better  than  these,  but  in  respect  to 
friendships  and  the  'cause'  they  were  the  golden  days  of 
my  life." 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  151 

The  religious  public  to  which  the  Andover  movement 
was  most  directly  and  in  a  sense  most  responsibly  related, 
was  represented  by  the  churches  which  belonged  to  the 
constituency  of  the  Seminary.  Whenever  an  Andover 
student  was  now  called  to  the  pastorate  of  one  of  these 
churches,  he  was  considered  in  an  unusual  degree  as  a 
representative  of  the  Seminary.  According  to  an  ancient 
and  binding  custom  of  the  churches  of  the  Congregational 
order,  a  candidate  for  the  pastorate  of  a  church  was  ex- 
amined in  his  theological  beliefs  by  a  council  made  up  of 
representatives  of  the  neighboring  churches.  This  custom 
was  observed  with  scrupulous  fidelity.  The  examination 
was  conducted  in  public,  and  was  carried  on  with  an  in- 
terest and  often  with  a  zest  seldom  seen  in  the  passing  of 
academic  tests.  It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  an  Andover 
man  would  escape  this  ordeal.  To  the  ministers  present  it 
was  the  opportunity,  as  they  assumed,  to  learn  almost  at 
first  hand  what  were  the  teachings  of  the  classroom.  To 
the  congregation,  it  was  a  welcome  occasion  for  coming 
into  an  understanding  of  the  effect  of  his  theological  views 
upon  the  spiritual  life  of  their  chosen  pastor.  I  was  fre- 
quently invited  to  be  present  and  take  part  in  these 
councils.  They  were,  I  think,  as  informing  to  me  as  to  the 
others.  I  often  wondered  at  the  maturity  and  independ- 
ence of  thought  displayed  by  the  candidate.  I  never  de- 
tected any  mere  repetition  of  the  teachings  of  the  Semi- 
nary. There  was  seldom  any  evidence  that  the  candidate 
was  making  statements  or  answering  questions  in  a  repre- 
sentative capacity.  It  was  only  the  things  which  were  real 
to  him  that  statement  or  question  revealed;  and  this  self- 
revealing  process  was  always  impressive.  It  was  influential 
in  shaping  the  opinions  of  the  councils.  It  carried  convic- 


152  MY  GENERATION 

tion  to  the  great  majority  who  watched  it.  Frequently 
the  decision  of  a  council  was  unanimous  in  favor  of  the 
candidate.  I  recall  no  instance  in  which  an  Andover  man 
was  denied  ordination  or  installation,  even  in  the  most 
exciting  periods  of  the  controversy. 

The  experience  of  students  seeking  missionary  service 
was  entirely  different.  The  American  Board  was  at  that 
time,  as  has  been  said,  a  close  corporation.  The  Prudential 
Committee,  its  executive  board  which  passed  upon  all 
applicants  for  missionary  service,  held  its  sessions  in  pri- 
vate. Previous  to  the  presentation  of  these  "cases"  to 
the  Prudential  Committee,  they  were  "handled"  by  the 
Home  Secretary  of  the  Board  according  to  what  had 
become  the  conventional  method. 

This  use  of  the  corporate  power  of  the  American  Board 
was  not  in  accordance  with  its  original  intention  or  with 
its  traditions.  The  incorporation  of  the  Board  was  for  the 
purpose  of  recognizing  and  insuring  the  breadth  of  its 
purpose.  It  was  to  be  an  undenominational  body,  including 
especially  Presbyterians  and  Dutch  Reformed  as  well  as 
Congregationalists.  Its  prudential  committee  was  not  to 
be  a  theological  tribunal.  Its  secretaries  were  to  be,  as  had 
been  the  case,  statesmen  in  the  administration  of  missions, 
not  partisan  propagandists.  But  the  Board  had  fallen  upon 
a  time  when  the  organization  had  lost  the  reason  for  its 
undenominational  character,  and  yet  had  not  assumed 
the  safeguards  of  denominational  control.  This  was  the 
time  in  which  it  was  taken  possession  of  by  theological 
partisans  for  partisan  ends,  under  whose  domination  the 
suppression  of  the  Andover  heresy  was  of  greater  account 
than  the  prosecution  of  missions;  or  to  state  their  position 
most  charitably,  missions  could  not  be  prosecuted  if  the 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  153 

new  heresy  was  not  suppressed.  If  allowed,  it  would  "cut 
the  nerve  of  missions." 

The  following  letter  from  the  Honorable  Alpheus  Hardy, 
declining  a  reelection  to  the  Prudential  Committee  of 
the  Board,  discloses  the  situation  as  one  saw  it  from  the 
inside: 

To  the  President  and  Corporate  Members  of  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions  — 

Brethren:  I  fully  appreciate  the  honor  you  have  conferred 
upon  me  in  declining  to  accept  my  resignation,  and  in  reelecting 
me  upon  the  Prudential  Committee. 

I  believe  there  has  been  during  the  past  few  years  a  divergence 
in  the  practical  management  of  one  part  of  the  Board's  work, 
which  has,  to  some  extent,  brought  the  Board  from  its  broad, 
catholic,  "undenominational,"  and  charitable  position  to  be 
a  partisan  in  questions  that  are  not  within  its  province,  are 
local,  in  a  measure  personal  and  divisive.  With  such  a  policy  I 
cannot  agree,  and  believing  it  to  be  detrimental  to  the  best 
interest  of  the  Board,  must  decline  to  be  a  member  of  a  body 
upholding  it,  viz.  the  Prudential  Committee. 

I  remain  with  respect,  now  and  ever,  your  co-laborer  in  the 
work  to  which  every  follower  of  Christ  is  commissioned 

Alpheus  Hardy 

Boston,  October  18,  1886 

In  communicating  this  letter  to  the  public,  according 
to  Mr.  Hardy's  personal  request,  President  Mark  Hopkins 
made  a  somewhat  extended  statement  on  his  own  account, 
confirming  the  statement  of  Mr.  Hardy,  explaining  more 
at  length  the  reasons  for  the  existing  difficulties  in  the 
Board,  and  advocating  as  the  only  method  of  relief  the 
transfer  of  the  theological  examination  of  missionary  can- 
didates from  the  Prudential  Committee  to  the  councils  of 
the  churches.  The  policy  which  President  Hopkins  advo- 


154  MY  GENERATION 

cated  received  growing  support,  from  the  constant  ac- 
ceptance by  councils  of  the  rejected  candidates  of  the 
Prudential  Committee  as  pastors  of  churches,  until,  as 
will  appear  later,  the  policy  was  merged  into  the  larger 
change,  through  which  the  Board  ceased  to  be  a  private 
corporation,  and  was  made  a  representative  body.  The 
most  striking  and  influential  incident  in  effecting  this 
change  was  what  was  known  as  "The  Case  of  the  Rev- 
erend William  H.  Noyes."  The  case  of  the  Reverend 
Robert  Hume,  an  honored  missionary  of  the  Board  in 
India,  who  was  at  first  denied  a  return  to  his  post  while 
on  leave  of  absence  in  this  country,  for  having  expressed 
sentiments  in  harmony  with  the  "Andover  theory,"  was 
a  still  more  serious  and  influential  incident,  but  it  was  of 
different  order. 

William  H.  Noyes,  the  son  of  a  missionary,  and  his 
classmate  Daniel  T.  Torrey  (Andover,  1887),  applied 
during  their  last  year  in  the  Seminary  for  acceptance  as 
missionaries  of  the  American  Board.  The  Prudential  Com- 
mittee declined  to  accept  them  on  the  ground  that  they 
entertained  what  they  believed  to  be  "a  reasonable  hope 
that  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  will  be  revealed  after  death 
to  those  who  have  not  known  Christ  in  this  life;  this  hope 
being  entertained  as  a  necessary  corollary  of  the  doctrine 
of  a  universal  atonement."  After  being  informed  that  they 
could  not  be  accepted  as  long  as  they  entertained  this 
"hope"  or  "inference,"  they  turned  to  the  pastorate, 
hoping  at  some  later  time  to  be  able  to  realize  their  mis- 
sionary purpose.  Mr.  Torrey  was  ordained  by  a  representa- 
tive council  of  churches  as  pastor  of  the  Harvard  Church, 
Dorchester.  Mr.  Noyes  was  called  to  serve  temporarily  as 
an  assistant  at  the  Berkeley  Street  Church,  Boston.  Dur- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  155 

ing  this  year  of  service,  an  unusual  interest  in  missions 
was  awakened  in  the  Society  of  Christian  Endeavor  con- 
nected with  the  church,  by  an  appeal  from  Japan  in  the 
"Missionary  Herald."  After  stating  the  great  spiritual 
necessities  of  large  portions  of  the  country,  the  appeal  de- 
clared, "This  desire  for  missionaries  is  not  one  of  a  sin- 
gle night  only;  it  is  a  constant  and  unquenchable  thirst." 
As  this  appeal  was  read  at  a  monthly  missionary  meeting 
of  the  society,  the  minds  of  those  present  turned  spon- 
taneously to  Mr.  Noyes.  "Why  can  we  not  send  him?  Let 
us  petition  the  church  to  make  him  their  missionary." 
The  church,  of  which  Dr.  Dickinson  was  pastor,  an  ardent 
advocate  of  missions,  a  corporate  member  of  the  Board, 
was  very  much  moved  by  this  request,  and  after  due  con- 
sultation with  various  pastors  and  friends  of  missions, 
among  whom  was  Dr.  William  E.  Merriman,  voted  to 
take  the  necessary  steps  to  the  carrying-out  of  the  request. 
Accordingly  the  church  called  a  large  council  of  the  neigh- 
boring churches  to  determine  upon  the  advisability  of 
their  action  in  proposing  to  make  Mr.  Noyes  the  foreign 
missionary  of  the  church,  and,  if  deemed  wise,  to  ordain 
Mr.  Noyes  to  that  service.  Of  the  twenty-two  churches 
invited,  two  declined  the  invitation  and  two  were  un- 
represented. Mr.  Noyes  made  a  full  statement  of  his  theo- 
logical views,  and  answered  all  questions  with  clearness 
and  frankness.  In  the  private  session  of  the  council  a 
great  unanimity  of  feeling  was  manifested  in  regard  to 
his  fitness  for  the  missionary  service.  There  was  no  in- 
timation of  any  theological  unfitness.  The  question  was 
in  regard  to  the  propriety  of  getting  the  case  of  Mr. 
Noyes  once  more  before  the  Board.  It  was  agreed  that 
Mr.  Noyes  should  not  be  asked  to  offer  himself  again. 


156  MY  GENERATION 

Might  it  not,  however,  be  advisable  to  proceed  to  ordain 
Mr.  Noyes  as  a  foreign  missionary,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  the  Berkeley  Street  Church  should  then,  with  the 
sanction  and  support  of  the  council,  endeavor  to  secure  the 
recognition  of  Mr.  Noyes  as  a  missionary  of  the  Board? 
The  following  resolution  was  passed  with  a  single  dissent- 
ing vote: 

Voted  —  That  this  Council  expresses  its  satisfaction  with  the 
examination  of  Mr.  W.  H.  Noyes,  and  that  we  proceed  to  ordain 
him  as  a  foreign  missionary,  and  advise  this  church  to  endeavor 
to  secure  an  arrangement  by  which  he  can  work  under  the  same 
direction  as  the  other  ministers  of  the  Congregational  Churches, 
and  that,  in  case  such  an  arrangement  cannot  be  made,  this 
church  assume  the  responsibility  of  his  direction  and  support. 

The  church  at  once  acted  upon  the  advice  of  the  council, 
and  resubmitted  the  case  of  Mr.  Noyes  to  the  Prudential 
Committee,  but  without  affecting  any  change  in  the 
former  result.  In  the  conference  with  the  Committee 
which  ensued,  Mr.  Noyes  reaffirmed  the  liberty  of  holding 
the  "reasonable  hope"  which  he  had  cherished,  and  the 
Committee  reaffirmed  its  unwillingness,  under  the  caution- 
ary instructions  which  it  had  received  at  the  annual  meet- 
ing of  the  Board  at  Des  Moines  regarding  the  hypothesis 
of  a  future  probation,  to  consider  further  the  appointment 
of  Mr.  Noyes.  At  the  close  of  the  year  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Noyes 
were  sent  out  as  missionaries  to  Japan  to  be  located  in 
Tokyo  under  charge  of  Dr.  Greene,  the  oldest  missionary 
of  the  American  Board  in  that  country,  until  arrangements 
should  be  made  for  more  permanent  location.  The  mis- 
sion was  carried  on  for  five  years.  It  was  then  given  over, 
the  occasion  for  its  separate  existence  having  passed. 
At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  American  Board,  held  at 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  157 

Worcester  in  October,  1893,  the  following  resolution  was 
adopted.  It  was  significant  in  many  ways. 

Resolved,  that  this  Board,  in  response  to  the  expressed  wish 
of  its  missionaries  in  Japan  and  in  recognition  of  the  successful 
labors  of  the  Reverend  William  H.  Noyes  in  that  Empire  re- 
quests the  Prudential  Committee  to  offer  to  him  an  appoint- 
ment as  missionary  of  the  Board.  The  Board  declares  that  this 
action  is  not  to  be  understood  as  in  any  way  modifying  its 
former  utterances  on  the  subject  of  future  probation. 

This  resolution  was  passed  by  a  vote  of  126  to  24. 

Still  more  significant  were  two  other  resolutions  passed 
at  the  same  meeting: 

Resolved,  that  the  limit  of  corporate  membership  be  fixed  at 
350  (virtually  doubling  the  membership),  and  that  in  addition 
to  vacancies  regularly  occurring,  25  persons  be  nominated  and 
chosen  at  each  annual  meeting  for  the  next  four  years,  com- 
mencing with  1894. 

A  previous  vote  had  provided  for  nominations  to  the 
membership  of  the  Board  from  the  State  organizations  of 
Congregational  churches  —  thus  bringing  the  Board  under 
the  direct  control  of  the  churches. 

A  further  resolution  adopted  at  this  meeting  prescribed 
a  reorganization  of  the  Prudential  Committee,  reconstitut- 
ing its  members  into  three  classes,  the  term  of  service  of 
each  member  to  terminate  at  the  end  of  three  years  unless 
reelected. 

During  the  period  between  the  rejection  of  Mr.  Noyes 
and  his  final  acceptance,  other  missionary  candidates 
holding  the  same  views  had  been  rejected  —  or,  in  the 
phraseology  of  the  Committee,  "postponed  for  further 
light."  In  some  instances,  however,  candidates  like  Mr. 
W.  J.  Covel,  whose  cases  were  thus  postponed,  refused  to 


158  MY  GENERATION 

submit  to  further  parleying  and  withdrew.  But  since  the 
action  at  the  Worcester  meeting  giving  the  Board  over 
into  the  control  of  the  churches,  I  know  of  no  instance  in 
which  the  Prudential  Committee  has  not  recognized  the 
standards  of  the  churches  in  its  appointment  of  mission- 
aries. Nor  do  I  know  of  any  instance  in  which  it  has  con- 
tinued to  insist  upon  the  acceptance  of  the  dogma  of  a 
restricted  Christian  opportunity,  despite  the  concluding 
statement  of  the  resolution  accepting  Mr.  Noyes,  that 
"this  action  is  not  to  be  understood  as  in  any  way  mod- 
ifying its  former  utterance  on  the  subject  of  future  pro- 
bation." And  under  this  change  of  policy  I  can  see  no 
sign,  comparing  the  gifts  of  the  churches,  or  the  offerings 
of  the  seminaries,  or  the  quality  of  service  rendered  in 
the  various  missionary  fields,  with  like  results  in  former 
days,  that  the  "nerve  of  missions"  has  become  less  sen- 
sitive to  the  needs  of  the  unchristianized  world  or  less 
vitally  connected  with  the  source  of  supply.1 

1  In  illustration  of  the  change  of  sentiment  on  the  part  of  the  constituency  of 
the  Board  within  a  little  more  than  a  decade  following  the  Worcester  meeting 
(1893),  I  quote  an  extract  from  a  letter  written  by  an  official  of  the  Board  to 
Mrs.  Tucker  in  acknowledgment  of  her  hospitality  during  a  missionary  con- 
vention at  Hanover.  The  letter  bears  date  of  December  21,  1906,  and  refers  to 
the  annual  meeting  of  the  Board  held  in  New  Haven  in  the  previous  October. 

'T  had  it  in  mind  to  tell  your  husband  of  an  interesting  call  I  had  from  Dr. 
F.  A.  Noble,  of  Chicago,  a  short  time  before  the  annual  meeting.  Being  under  the 
impression  that  Mr.  Capen  was  intending  to  retire  from  the  presidency  of  the 
Board,  he  called  to  urge  President  Tucker  for  the  position,  saying  we  wanted  to 
go  back  to  the  kind  of  president  we  had  in  Mark  Hopkins.  I  could  hardly  believe 
my  ears  in  view  of  his  attitude  toward  the  more  liberal  wing  in  the  Board  during 
the  long  controversy.  It  was  most  significant  and  beautiful." 

This  personal  action  of  Dr.  Noble  was  very  generous.  I  do  not  know  how 
completely  it  represented  the  conservative  element  in  the  constituency  of  the 
Board.  It  was  not  put  to  the  test,  as  I  positively  declined  to  allow  the  use  of  my 
name  in  response  to  the  requests  which  came  to  me  from  the  delegates  assembled 
at  New  Haven.  I  was  then  already  conscious  of  being  overburdened  with  college 
duties.  I  also  felt  that  it  would  be  unwise  for  the  Board  to  recall  the  controversy 
through  which  it  had  passed,  by  placing  in  its  most  representative  position  one 
who  had  been  so  thoroughly  identified  with  the  controversy. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  159 

m 

Andover  as  a  working  Center  during  the  Decade  of  Conflict 

In  passing  for  the  time  from  the  environment  of  con- 
troversy into  the  internal  life  of  the  Seminary,  it  may  be 
difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to  convey  the  impression 
that  the  essential  interest  at  Andover  was  not  in  the 
controversy,  but  in  the  normal  work.  But  such  was  the 
fact.  There  was  an  unreality  about  the  whole  contention 
in  striking  contrast  with  the  realities  of  the  classroom. 
The  prosecution,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  was  so 
contrary  to  the  traditions  of  the  Seminary  and  so  out  of 
harmony  with  the  general  spirit  of  the  age,  that  it  was 
hard  at  times  to  realize  that  it  was  actually  going  on. 
Most  of  the  Faculty  were  graduates  of  the  Seminary 
and  imbued  with  its  aggressive  theological  principles;  and 
the  more  recent  members  had  but  just  come  to  their  duties 
from  centers  of  intellectual  life  and  activity.  The  enforced 
attention  to  the  controversial  situation  compelled  an  in- 
terruption, at  times  almost  a  reversal  of  established  habits 
of  thought.  But  the  normal  interest,  as  I  have  said,  cen- 
tered in  work,  not  in  conflict. 

The  work  went  on  under  this  outward  disturbance 
without  the  least  sense  of  insecurity.  Perhaps  there  was 
no  point  at  which  the  unreality  of  the  controversy  made 
itself  more  felt,  than  in  the  failure  of  the  protracted  litiga- 
tion to  awaken  any  fear  whatever  as  to  the  final  result. 
The  action  of  the  Visitors  in  deposing  Professor  Smyth 
was  not  taken  seriously.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  that 
the  action  could  stand.  When  Professor  Smyth  went  on 
with  his  work  as  if  nothing  had  taken  place,  his  course 
seemed  natural  and  consistent.  These  outward  conditions 


160  MY  GENERATION 

created  no  excitement  or  distraction  among  the  students. 
Students  were  not  deterred  by  them  from  entering  the 
Seminary,  nor  incited  to  leave  to  finish  their  course  at 
other  seminaries.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  a  steady 
increase  of  students  throughout  the  entire  period.  There 
was  a  notable  increase  in  the  number  of  mature  men,  some 
of  them  from  other  seminaries,  some  of  them  from  other 
professions.  There  was  a  remarkable  spirit  of  comradeship 
between  students  and  faculty.  This  was  the  spirit  which 
pervaded  the  classroom. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  this  environment  of  contro- 
versy was  the  more  annoying  or  stimulating;  but  disre- 
garding either  view,  the  work  of  the  Seminary  was  in 
itself  of  exceptional  interest.  In  this  respect  it  shared  in 
the  revived  interest  in  theological  study  in  all  the  sem- 
inaries. Subjects  of  special  investigation  in  all  the  de- 
partments invited  the  most  earnest  attention  of  scholars. 
The  revival  of  scholarship  was  nowhere  more  apparent 
than  in  the  more  advanced  seminaries.  Add  to  this  general 
fact  the  local  fact  that  the  majority  of  the  Faculty  were 
new  to  their  departments  and  obliged  to  construct  and 
organize  as  well  as  teach,  and  it  will  appear  that  the  work 
of  each  was  of  compelling  and  absorbing  interest,  at  least 
to  him.  In  nearly  all  of  the  departments  it  was  both 
intensive  and  extensive.  Theology  was  making  severe 
demands  upon  close  and  accurate  scholarship,  and  its 
demand  was  equally  urgent  for  a  wider  application  to  the 
vexing  problems  of  society.  In  a  word,  it  was  not  chiefly 
the  constant  presence  of  controversy  which  made  the 
work  at  Andover  during  this  period  of  exceptional  interest 
and  concern;  the  work  itself,  for  the  reasons  given,  had  an 
exceptional  significance  to  those  who  were  engaged  in  it. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  161 

I  confine  myself,  in  my  reference  to  the  Andover 
of  this  time  as  a  working  center,  to  the  work  of  my  own 
department.  To  enter  into  the  problems  which  gave  in- 
terest and  distinction  to  the  work  in  other  departments 
would  divert  me  from  the  natural  trend  of  these  "Notes," 
without  giving  thereby  any  satisfactory  view  of  the  work 
of  my  colleagues. 

The  work  of  my  department  was  twofold  —  the  one 
part  covering  much  ground  already  under  high  cultiva- 
tion, the  other  part  extending  into  almost  entirely  new 
territory.  I  must  explain  how  this  extension  of  the  de- 
partment was  made,  as  I  was  responsible  for  it.  There  had 
been  in  the  Seminary  "from  time  immemorial"  an  un- 
attached and  somewhat  perfunctory  lectureship,  known 
as  the  "Lectureship  on  Pastoral  Theology."  It  had  been 
assigned,  from  time  to  time,  to  one  department  or  another 
according  to  some  supposed  fitness  of  the  incumbent,  or 
to  the  least  power  of  resistance  on  his  part.  It  seemed  to 
me,  as  I  looked  into  this  lectureship,  that  it  was  capable 
of  rendering  a  wide  and  timely  service,  and  I  therefore 
asked,  much  to  the  relief  of  my  colleagues,  that  it  might 
be  attached  to  my  professorship.  It  thus  became  an  open 
door  through  which  I  had  free  access  to  those  social  prob- 
lems which  were  confronting  the  Church.  It  became 
entirely  logical,  under  the  construction  put  upon  this 
lectureship,  to  emphasize  the  new  and  enlarged  functions 
of  the  Church  in  modern  society.  And  as  these  functions 
rapidly  grew  in  importance  and  gained  formal  recognition, 
elective  courses  in  sociological  subjects  were  added  under 
the  title  of  "Social  Economics,"  which  after  a  time  were 
given  in  outline  in  the  "  Review,"  in  response  to  urgent 
demands  from  interested  ministers  and  laymen. 


162  MY  GENERATION 

The  chair  of  Preaching,  to  which  I  had  been  called  (the 
Bartlet  Professorship  of  Sacred  Rhetoric),  was  one  of  the 
first  chairs  established  upon  the  Andover  Foundation.  As 
I  remarked  at  my  inauguration,  the  Founders,  contrary 
to  the  order  of  procedure  in  some  of  the  earlier  theological 
schools,  at  once  did  all  in  their  power  to  insure  for  the 
truth  an  adequate  hearing.  The  Trustees  invariably  called 
to  the  service  of  this  department  men  who  had  had  the 
discipline  of  the  pulpit.  The  traditions  of  the  Bartlet 
Professorship  ran  back  through  a  line  of  distinguished 
preachers  —  back  to  Phelps,  to  Park,  to  Skinner,  to 
Murdock,  to  Porter,  to  Griffin,  the  Boanerges  of  the  Park 
Street  pulpit,  Boston.  Of  course  each  man  in  the  succession 
brought  to  the  classroom  his  own  philosophy  of  preaching, 
the  inevitable  outcome  of  his  experience,  or  observation, 
or  study  of  the  principles  of  his  art.  There  were  standards 
to  be  upheld  by  all  alike,  and  there  was  a  common  stock 
of  knowledge  on  which  all  must  draw,  but  somewhere  the 
emphasis  laid  on  this  or  that  requirement,  showed  the 
ruling  idea  which  was  to  govern  each  new  incumbent 
of  the  chair.  My  own  philosophy  compelled  me  to  lay  the 
emphasis,  the  strong  emphasis,  in  preaching  upon  the 
personality  of  the  preacher.  After  leaving  Andover  I  gave 
the  course  of  lectures  (for  1898)  upon  the  Lyman  Beecher 
Foundation  on  Preaching  at  Yale.  These  lectures  were 
published  under  the  title  "The  Making  and  the  Unmak- 
ing of  the  Preacher."  "How  shall  we  put  ourselves,"  I 
asked  in  the  opening  lecture,  "within  so  great  a  matter 
as  that  of  preaching?  Where  is  the  point  of  reality?  I  know 
of  no  place  where  one  may  so  certainly  expect  to  find  it  as 
in  the  consciousness  of  the  preacher.  Around  him  and 
above  him  stretch  the  vast  ranges  of  truth.  They  all  con- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  163 

tribute  something  to  his  message.  Before  him  is  the  com- 
mon humanity.  Nothing  which  belongs  to  that  can  be 
alien  to  him.  But  neither  truth  nor  man  has  anything  to 
do  with  preaching  until  each  has  found  the  rightful  place 
in  the  consciousness  of  the  preacher  "  (p.  3). 

And  again,  in  asking  about  the  true  relation  of  the 
morality  of  preaching  to  the  art,  I  said:  "Preaching  con- 
sists in  the  right  correspondence  between  the  apprehen- 
sion and  the  expression  of  a  given  truth.  The  morality  of 
preaching  lies  at  this  point,  just  where  also  its  effectiveness 
lies.  Preaching  becomes  unmoral,  if  not  immoral,  when 
the  preacher  allows  the  expression  of  truth  to  go  beyond 
the  apprehension  of  it.  This  is  unreality  in  the  pulpit. 
Doubtless  some  unreal  preaching  is  effective,  but  never 
for  long  time.  The  law  is  that  the  power  of  the  pulpit 
corresponds  to  the  clearness  and  vividness  of  the  preacher's 
apprehension  of  truth.  The  preacher  who  really  believes 
the  half  truth  will  have  more  power  than  the  preacher 
who  half  believes  the  truth.  But  it  is  almost  equally  true 
that  preaching  may  fail  for  want  of  adequate  expression. 
Hence  the  occasion  for  the  art  of  sermonizing,  or  for  the 
art  of  preaching;  the  art,  that  is,  of  making  the  expression 
of  truth  satisfy  the  apprehension  of  it"  (pp.  62,  63). 

This  philosophy,  or  psychology  of  preaching,  was  not 
the  substance  of  the  classroom  lectures.  These  lectures 
had  to  do  necessarily  with  the  technique  of  preaching.  But 
this  philosophy  of  preaching  was  the  underlying  and  work- 
ing principle  of  the  department.  In  conjunction  with  Pro- 
fessor Churchill,  a  weekly  or  semi-weekly  exercise  was 
inaugurated  at  which  each  member  of  the  senior  class 
preached  at  least  twice  before  the  class.  This  exercise 
brought  out  the  man  as  well  as  the  sermon.  Although  the 


164  MY  GENERATION 

conditions  were  not  perfect  for  direct  and  effective  preach- 
ing, still  it  was  preaching,  and  by  the  choice  of  subjects 
with  some  reference  to  the  audience,  it  was  capable  of 
being  made  natural  preaching.  It  was  a  far  different  matter 
from  handing  in  a  written  sermon  for  criticism.  It  allowed, 
and  called  forth,  criticism  at  all  vital  points.  The  class 
took  the  initiative,  usually  freely  and  vigorously.  Not 
infrequently  the  criticism  from  the  department  came  in 
as  a  corrective.  Sometimes  it  was  necessary  to  interpret 
a  man  to  his  fellows,  to  uncover  the  latent  thought  which 
had  been  missed  by  the  class,  to  give  to  the  preacher  of 
the  day  the  courage  of  seeing  more  clearly  the  intended 
and  entirely  possible  result  which  he  had  failed  to  reach. 
At  other  times  it  was  equally  necessary  to  show  a  man 
how  he  was  hindering  the  truth  by  some  mannerism,  by 
some  insufficient  interpretation,  by  some  false  note  in  the 
spiritual  application.  As  I  look  back  upon  this  exercise,  I 
am  confirmed  in  my  philosophy  of  preaching  —  that  it 
has  to  do  most  vitally  with  the  personality  of  the  preacher. 
I  am  sure  that  the  men  themselves  grew  in  preaching 
power,  as  they  grew  in  the  understanding  and  use  of  their 
personality.  I  am  sure  that  I  came  into  a  larger  sense  of 
their  possibilities  the  more  I  studied  their  personal  apti- 
tudes. I  think  that  they  set  themselves  free  very  quickly 
from  the  common  charge  of  "seminary  preaching,"  and 
became  preachers  in  their  own  right,  their  work  bearing 
the  stamp  of  their  own  personality. 

The  lectures,  as  I  have  said,  were  of  necessity  chiefly 
concerned  with  the  technique  of  preaching  —  the  forma- 
tion of  the  homiletic  habit,  how  distinguished  from  the 
literary  or  oratorical  habit,  how  related  to  the  philosophi- 
cal and  interpretative  habits  and  to  the  historic  spirit; 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  165 

methods  of  preaching,  how  can  the  so-called  extempore 
method  be  cultivated  to  insure  accuracy  and  precision 
in  freedom  of  speech,  how  escape  the  confinement  of  the 
memoriter  method,  how  distinguish  between  the  method 
of  the  sermon  written  to  be  delivered,  and  that  of  the 
sermon  written  to  be  read;  the  fundamental  idea  of  the 
sermon,  and  its  great  qualities  of  style  and  tone;  the 
original  sources  of  pulpit  material,  the  Bible,  Nature,  and 
human  nature,  and  secondary  sources  involving  the  con- 
sideration of  plagiarism;  and  modern  schools  of  preaching. 
Of  these  general  topics,  I  found  that  the  greatest  interest 
centered  in  methods  of  preaching,  due  in  large  measure 
to  the  very  great  difficulty  of  really  mastering  any  one 
distinctive  method.  To  write  a  sermon  is  not  difficult,  but 
to  determine  whether  one  shall  try  to  put  into  it  some- 
thing of  the  charm  of  literature  or  something  of  the  force 
of  oratory,  involves  a  study  of  the  essential  meaning  of 
style.  It  is  more  difficult  to  speak  without  notes  than  to 
write  and  read  or  deliver,  but  it  is  far  more  difficult  still  to 
become  a  master  of  trained  speech,  so  clearly  a  master 
that  a  man  can  trust  himself,  and  that  his  audience  can 
trust  him.  If  the  memory  is  entirely  trustworthy,  quick 
and  sure  in  action,  the  memoriter  sermon  may  be  free 
from  the  unnaturalness  of  the  method.  Whenever  a  man 
was  in  perplexity  about  his  method,  I  advised  the  written 
sermon,  the  sermon  written  to  be  delivered,  as  the  basis 
from  which  one  could  work  out  his  own  permanent  method. 
Doubtless  a  good  many  stick  in  this  tentative  method 
and  never  advance  into  the  commanding  forcefulness  of 
the  spoken  style  at  its  best,  or  into  the  persuasive  charm 
of  the  purely  written  style  at  its  best.  But  a  period  of 
writing  is  absolutely  essential  to  most  men  if  they  are  to 


166  MY  GENERATION 

gain  any  sure  command  of  language.  The  danger  of  being 
permanently  and  rigidly  holden  to  a  manuscript  is  far 
less  than  the  danger  of  a  loose  and  unstudied  speech, 
which  has  never  passed  under  the  severe  training  of  the 
pen. 

The  conduct  of  public  worship  in  the  non-liturgical 
churches  is  so  much  a  function  of  the  pulpit  that  the 
subject  is  inseparable  from  that  of  preaching.  The  awaken- 
ing and  guidance  of  the  spirit  of  devotion  in  the  congre- 
gation virtually  rests  upon  the  minister,  and  like  preach- 
ing, is  largely  determined  by  his  personal  aptitudes  and 
training.  Ineptness,  or  lack  of  the  devotional  sense,  or 
want  of  liturgical  knowledge,  seriously  affects  the  tone 
of  the  whole  service,  and  may  grievously  offend  the  more 
sensitive  spiritual  natures.  The  witticism  was  attributed 
to  Professor  Park,  returning  from  a  winter  in  Boston  on 
his  retirement,  that  he  now  understood  the  growth  of 
Episcopacy  in  the  city,  after  hearing  ministers  pray.  The 
devotional  lack  of  the  time  was  not  altogether  in  the 
matter  of  public  prayer.  The  churches  suffered  not  a  little 
under  the  reign  of  music  committees.  The  order  of  worship 
often  took  on  the  character  of  a  programme.  The  intro- 
duction of  irrelevant  music  prolonged  but  did  not  enrich 
the  service.  Some  fifteen  minutes  was  added  to  an  Easter 
service  which  one  of  the  Andover  professors  had  been 
asked  to  conduct,  by  the  moralizings  of  a  tenor  soloist 
upon  the  striking  of  the  hours  —  from  one  o'clock  to 
twelve.  Both  Professor  Harris  and  myself  were  frequently 
impressed  with  the  need  of  a  larger  participation  of  the 
congregation  in  worship,  not  through  a  lowering  but 
through  an  elevation  of  the  standard  of  congregational 
singing.   The  experiment  of  utilizing  the   congregation 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  167 

under  the  leadership  of  a  large  and  highly  trained  choir 
had  been  tried  with  assuring  success  at  the  Central  Church, 
Providence,  during  the  pastorate  of  Professor  Harris,  and 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Glezen  as  organist.  I  had  been 
much  impressed  by  the  service  at  this  church,  as  I  was 
often  called  to  supply  the  pulpit.  Taking  this  experiment 
as  a  practical  suggestion,  we  set  at  work  with  the  cooper- 
ation of  Mr.  Glezen  upon  the  preparation  of  a  hymn  book 
which  might  be  a  stimulus  to  worship.  The  now  familiar 
tunes  of  the  best  English  composers  had  not  then  come 
into  general  use,  and  the  hymn  books  were  scant  of  hymns 
expressive  of  the  experience  of  the  modern  Christian.  The 
old  hymns  and  tunes  of  enduring  quality  were  retained, 
but  the  number  of  hymns  usually  found  in  a  compilation  — 
twelve  to  fourteen  hundred  —  was  reduced  to  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty-nine,  and  in  the  popular  edition  of  the  book 
to  four  hundred  and  eighty-nine.  The  Psalms  were  ar- 
ranged for  chanting  as  well  as  for  responsive  reading.  The 
title  of  the  book  was,  I  think,  the  best  that  has  been 
adopted  —  "Hymns  of  the  Faith."  It  has  its  special  fitness 
in  the  fact  that  the  arrangement  was  based  upon,  and 
followed  the  order  of  the  Apostles'  Creed. 

The  preparation  of  the  book  was  to  us  both  a  refreshing 
labor.  Professor  Harris  wrote  from  his  summer  home  in 
Bar  Harbor,  "Strange  as  it  may  seem"  (the  controversy 
was  well  under  way)  "the  hymn  book  is  now  on  my  mind 
more  than  any  other  project."  The  reception  accorded  to 
the  book  was  both  gratifying  and  amusing.  Where,  how- 
ever, it  was  amusing  to  the  editors,  it  was  perplexing  to 
the  publishers.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Company  had  had 
some  experience  in  the  somewhat  analogous  sale  of  text- 
books, but  I  doubt  if  they  ever  found  the  hobbies  of  school- 


168  MY  GENERATION 

masters  and  school  committees  quite  so  vexing  as  the 
whims  of  churches.  Some  hymn  had  been  left  out  —  prob- 
ably excluded;  could  not  a  new  edition  be  prepared  to 
include  it?  Here  and  there  a  new  adaptation  of  tune  to 
hymn  had  been  made  —  not  allowable.  Like  the  book, 
but  type  too  small  for  one  of  our  members  —  that  settles 
it.  Too  many  new  tunes,  takes  too  much  time  to  learn 
them.  Many  of  the  criticisms  were  valuable,  and  on 
the  whole  the  response  was  quicker  and  more  general 
than  we  had  anticipated.  Occasionally  a  letter  came  in, 
like  this  from  Professor  Sewall,  of  Bangor,  from  which 
I  quote. 

Last  evening  went  all  thro'  it  —  like  a  Chinaman  beginning 
at  the  end  and  working  back  to  the  beginning  —  and  I  want  to 
tell  you  that  I  like  it  thoroughly,  from  end  to  end,  whichever 
end  you  start  with.  It  is  good  —  full  of  good  hymns,  and  full  of 
good  music.  It  strikes  me  with  admiration  that  you  have  been 
able  to  keep  out  so  much  that  must  have  clamored  for  ad- 
mission; and  further  that  you  have  put  into  so  small  compass  so 
much  that  is  highest  in  taste  and  sweetest  in  music.  Only  —  if 
you  ever  issue  another  "popular  edition,"  do,  do,  do  leave  out 
that  rascally  Greenville !  —  which  I  think  must  have  been  about 
worn  out  by  the  time  the  fellow  got  it  done.  I  hope  I  may  meet 
brother  Rousseau  in  heaven  —  i.e.,  if  he  gets  there  —  and  pro- 
vided I  get  there  too  —  which  ifs  you  may  set  down  as  a  pair 
of  twins;  but  if  he  does  get  there,  I  am  sure  his  tune  will  have 
been  burnt  off  of  him  in  the  fires  of  purgatory  thro'  which  he 
will  have  to  pass.  But  those  other  tunes  —  of  Monk  and  Dykes 
and  Stainer  and  Barnby  and  Tours  et  al.  —  just  lift  one's  soul 
up  into  heaven.  ...  I  hope  those  composers  will  go  into  the 
heavenly  life  with  their  creative  powers  all  perfect,  and  forever 
increasing. 

"Hymns  of  the  Faith"  soon  took  its  place  as  an  edu- 
cating force  in  hymnology,  popularizing  the  best  tunes, 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  169 

and  helping  to  put  the  right  valuation  on  hymns.  The 
fact  is  often  overlooked  that  it  is  as  much  one  of  the  re- 
ligious functions  of  every  generation  to  winnow  its  hymns 
as  to  revise  its  creeds. 

The  Lectureship  on  Pastoral  Theology,  which  was  used 
chiefly  to  relate  the  Church  to  its  new  social  duties,  re- 
quired a  certain  amount  of  attention  to  satisfy  its  original 
demands.  The  pastoral  offices  were  treated  altogether  by 
lectures;  the  administration  of  the  local  church  also  by 
lectures,  but  still  more  definitely  in  connection  with  a 
system  of  scholarships,  which  gave  the  students  access  to 
the  working  of  thoroughly  organized  churches.  Berkeley 
Temple,  which  had  become  an  institutional  church  under 
the  pastorate  of  Dr.  Charles  A.  Dickinson,  gave  employ- 
ment on  Saturdays  and  Sundays  to  a  considerable  num- 
ber; others  spent  an  equal  amount  of  time  in  the  service 
of  churches  in  the  neighboring  manufacturing  towns; 
others  still  devoted  a  certain  amount  of  time  on  Sundays 
or  during  the  week  in  work  at  the  Concord  Reformatory, 
or  in  other  reformatory  institutions  in  eastern  Massa- 
chusetts. Berkeley  Temple  especially  became  the  head- 
quarters for  students  engaged  in  this  diversified  service. 
Friends  of  the  Seminary,  in  cooperation  with  the  church, 
made  over  an  unused  loft  in  the  church  building  into 
dormitories,  which  afforded  ample  and  attractive  accommo- 
dations for  the  greater  part  of  the  holders  of  these  scholar- 
ships in  Pastoral  Theology  whose  work  was  in  Boston. 

I  insert  the  following  schedule  of  lectures  in  Homiletics 
and  Pastoral  Theology  to  indicate  the  ground  covered  in 
the  prescribed  work  of  the  department: 


170  MY  GENERATION 


Scheme  of  Lectures 

IN 

HOMILETICS   AND   PASTORAL   THEOLOGY 


PREACHING 

1.  The  Homiletic  Habit 

How  related  to  — 

1.  The  Oratorical  Habit 

2.  The  Literary  Habit 

3.  The  Art  of  Interpretation 

4.  The  Dogmatic  Method 

5.  The  Historic  Spirit  and  Method 

6.  The  Homiletic  Habit  defined 

2.  Methods  of  Preaching 

1.  The  Extempore  Method  —  qualifications,  training, 

dangers,  safeguards 

2.  The  Memoriter  Method 

3.  The  Method  of  the  Sermon  written  to  be  delivered 

4.  The  Method  of  the  Sermon  written  to  be  read 

3.  The  Making  of  the  Sermon 

1.  The  Fundamental  Idea  of  the  Sermon 

2.  Varieties  of  the  Sermon 

The  Textual,  the  Topical,  the  Serial 

3.  The  Sermon  in  Structure 

Text  —  Introduction  —  Development  —  Con- 
clusion 

4.  The  Sermon  in  Style 

Vitality  —  Sincerity  —  Plainness  —  Force  — 

Beauty 
The  Formation  of  Style  for  the  Pulpit 

5.  The  Sermon  in  Tone 

4.  The  Sources  of  Pulpit  Material 

Original  Sources 

1.  The  Bible  —  considered  as  the  Preacher's  Book 

2.  Nature 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  171 

3.  Human  Nature  —  the  study  of  men 

4.  The  Christian  Experience 

Secondary  Sources  —  involving    the    consideration  of 
plagiarism 
5.  Supplementary  Topic:  Modern  Schools  of  Preaching 

II 

,    THE   CONDUCT   OF   PUBLIC   WORSHIP 

1.  The  Present  Revival  of  Worship  in  the  Non-liturgical 

Churches 

2.  Qualifications  on  the  part  of  the  Ministry  for  the  Conduct 

of  Public  Worship 

3.  The  Service  of  the  Sanctuary  with  Reference  to  the  Order 

and  Proportion  of  Parts 

4.  The  Use  of  Scripture,  Liturgic  and  Didactic 

5.  Hymnology  and  Church  Music 

6.  Public  Prayer 

7.  The  Administration  of  the  Sacraments 

III 

PASTORAL   THEOLOGY 

1.  The  Pastoral  Offices 

1.  The  Cure  of  Souls 

2.  The  Bringing  of  Men  to  Christ 

3.  Training  in  Character 

4.  Social  Visitation 

5.  Visitation  of  the  Sick 

6.  The  Offices  of  Consolation 

7.  The  Burial  of  the  Dead 

2.  The  Administration  of  the  Church 

1.  The  Church  in  Idea  and  Purpose 

2.  Membership  in  the  Church 

3.  The  Local  Church  in  its  Organization  —  a  working 

force  in  a  community 

4.  The  Teaching  Capacity  of  the  Church  —  the  Sunday 

School 


172  MY  GENERATION 

5.  The  Church  in  its  Benevolence  —  Charities  and  Missions 

6.  The  Church  in  the  Expression  of  its  Spiritual  Life  — 

devotional  meetings 

7.  The  Church  in  its  relation  to  the  Indifferent  and  Prej- 

udiced Classes 

The  venture  of  the  department  into  the  field  of  socio- 
logical studies  was  an  innovation  in  a  theological  school. 
Few  colleges  had  then  entered  the  field;  there  was  lack  of 
a  proper  scientific  background  for  the  more  practical 
professional  uses  of  the  new  science.  But  nowhere  was 
there  greater  need  of  the  right  understanding  of  the  chang- 
ing social  conditions,  than  among  those  who  were  con- 
cerned with  the  social  instrumentalities  and  agencies  of 
the  Church.  The  Church,  in  the  absence  of  any  really 
scientific  study,  was  already  active  in  the  field  of  phil- 
anthropy, and  in  some  localities  was  intensifying  its  un- 
scientific activities.  There  was  a  growing  suspicion  among 
careful  investigators  and  students  that  the  Church  was 
going  wrong  in  its  efforts,  and  that  it  was  in  danger  of 
becoming  obstructive  to  the  progress  of  the  new  social 
order.  The  impulse  actuating  the  Church  was  charity,  and 
its  chief  agency  was  the  charitable  organization  of  some 
form,  most  frequently  associated  with  the  mission.  Some 
of  the  evils  of  the  methods  employed,  manifest  in  the 
pauperizing  of  families  and  communities,  had  been  or  were 
being  corrected  by  more  careful  and  comprehensive  organ- 
ization. The  organization  of  Associated  Charities  accom- 
plished much  in  the  prevention  of  waste  and  of  the  demor- 
alization incident  to  it.  But  the  fundamental  idea  was 
still  that  of  charity,  and  the  whole  trend  of  events  was 
showing  the  insufficiency  of  the  idea  for  social  reform  and 
advance.  The  greatest  social  grievance  came  from  those 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  173 

who,  if  in  need  of  charity,  did  not  want  it  —  the  vast 
army  of  unskilled  labor.  Their  grievance,  as  it  became 
understood,  changed  the  whole  problem  from  that  of 
charity  to  that  of  economic  justice.  In  like  manner  a 
change  was  going  on  in  the  theory  of  treating  the  de- 
fective and  otherwise  dependent  classes  —  not  the  more 
abundant  relief  of  the  deficient  and  dependent,  but  the 
prevention  so  far  as  possible  of  deficiency  and  dependency. 
It  seemed  imperative  that  the  incoming  ministry  should 
be  apprized  of  these  changes,  and  as  few  had  been  so 
apprized  in  their  academic  training,  that  the  Seminary 
course  should  be  open  to  the  necessary  instruction,  even 
if  mainly  corrective  and  directive.  This  was  the  reason 
and  the  intent  of  the  elective  courses  in  Social  Economics. 
The  title  was  chosen  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  if  "theol- 
ogy [was]  to  be  applied  to  life"  under  modern  social  con- 
ditions, it  must  be  applied  in  terms  which  could  be  under- 
stood. Social  economy  had  a  definite  relation  to  the 
Church,  after  the  analogy  of  the  relation  of  political 
economy  to  the  State.  The  separation  between  Church 
and  State  has  no  correspondence  in  any  like  separation 
of  Church  and  society.  The  Church  has  social  obligations, 
duties,  and  even  functions,  emphasized  by  the  absence 
of  like  political  functions.  This  social  obligation  of  the 
Church  had  been  recognized  in  many  ways,  but  the  ob- 
ligation began  to  assume  a  new  meaning  and  far  greater 
proportions  as  modern  society  had  to  take  account  of 
industrialism  which  created  new  conditions  and  new 
classes.  The  whole  social  economy  was  modified  especially 
in  ways  most  disturbing  to  the  social  influence  of  the 
Church.  The  study  of  the  enlarged  and  more  complicated 
social  economy  was  thus  necessary  if  the  Church  was  to 


174  MY  GENERATION 

maintain  or  recover  its  influence.  The  introduction  of 
"Social  Economics"  into  the  Seminary  curriculum  ap- 
prized the  churches  of  the  times  upon  which  they  had 
fallen. 

I  was  not  at  all  surprised  at  the  readiness  of  my  col- 
leagues to  make  a  place  for  the  courses  in  social  economics 
among  the  new  electives  offered;  but  I  was  surprised  to 
find  how  quickly  the  idea  found  acceptance  in  the  churches. 
When  it  became  generally  known  that  such  courses  were 
being  given  in  the  Seminary,  the  desire  was  expressed  by 
many  ministers  and  laymen  that  they  be  also  offered  as 
Seminary  extension  courses.  It  was  impossible  to  comply 
in  a  satisfactory  way  with  the  requests  received,  owing  to 
the  labor  required,  chiefly  of  correspondence,  in  carrying 
on  extension  courses,  and  also  owing  to  the  lack  of  refer- 
ence libraries  furnished  with  the  necessary  authorities. 

But  an  arrangment  was  made  through  the  "Review," 
by  which  three  yearly  courses,  more  general  in  their 
character  than  those  of  the  classroom,  were  outlined  in 
monthly  parts,  with  reference  to  such  authorities  as  could 
be  found  in  most  public  libraries.  The  idea  running  through 
these  courses  was  that  of  the  new  obligations  which 
society  was  assuming  (under  the  incoming  social  order), 
toward  those  who  had  received  scant  recognition  or 
insufficient  treatment  as  members  of  society.  Broadly 
classified  such  were,  (1)  those  who  represented  the  de- 
mands of  labor  for  a  larger  social  hospitality;  (2)  those 
who  through  poverty  and  disease  had  lost  social  standing; 
(3)  those  who  through  crimes  of  various  degrees  had  for- 
feited their  rights  in  society.  These  classes  were  asking 
in  one  way  or  another  for  a  rehearing  of  their  case.  The 
coming  question  was  not  the  familiar   question  of  the 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  175 

protection  of  society  and  its  interests,  but  the  question 
of  how  to  bring  the  untrained,  the  disheartened,  the  dan- 
gerous classes  into  normal  relation  to  society.  I  give  the 
course  for  the  year  1889  in  outline  as  an  illustration  of 
the  object  and  method  of  each  course.  It  was  the  object 
of  this  course  to  give  a  sympathetic  approach  to  the  study 
of  the  labor  movement  through  the  proper  historic  per- 
spective. 

Subject 

The  Social  Evolution  of  Labor 

Topics 

1.  The  Transition  from  Slavery  to  Serfdom 

2.  The  Workman  of  the  Free  Cities 

3.  The  English  Laborer  at  the  Rise  of  Industrialism 

4.  The  Factory  System 

5.  Chartism  and  Trade  Unionism 

6.  English  Labor  Legislation 

7.  The  Political  Relation  of  Democracy  to  the  Laboring 

Classes 

8.  Labor  in  the  United  States  as  affected  by  Slavery  and 

Immigration 

9.  Labor  in  the  United  States  as  affected  by  State  Systems  of 

Education 

10.  Wages  and  Profits 

11.  What  constitutes  a  Working  Day:  the  Use  of  Leisure 

12.  Socialism  in  the  United  States  compared  with  Socialism  in 

Germany  and  England 

References  were  given  in  practicable  detail  under  each 
topic.  I  had  occasion  to  know  that  frequent  requests  were 
made  at  the  public  libraries  for  the  purchase  of  the  less 
known  among  the  authorities  named,  and  that  now  and 
then  a  reading  club  began  the  collection  of  books  and 
reports  bearing  upon  the  subjects  under  discussion. 


176  MY  GENERATION 

Subject  for  1890 

The  Treatment  of  Crime  and  the  Criminal  Classes. 

(The  Relation  of  Society  to  those  who  have  forfeited  their 
rights  in  it) 

Subject  for  1891 

The  Treatment  of  Pauperism  and  Disease. 

(The  Relation  of  Society  to  those  who  through  various  dis- 
abilities are  unable  to  keep  their  place  in  it) 

I  append  a  few  extracts  from  letters,  chiefly  of  inquiry, 
to  show  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  interest  in  the  sub- 
jects brought  under  discussion. 

From  Wellesley: 

I  wish  to  express  my  great  obligation  to  you  for  the  "  Outlines  in 
Social  Economics"  brought  out  in  the  "Andover  Review."  Sec- 
tion I  has  suggested  and  in  part  furnished  the  basis  for  our  work 
in  Economics  for  this  winter  term.  It  has  proven  to  be  just 
what  we  needed  to  lead  up  to  the  study  of  schemes  of  industrial 
reorganization. 

From  Brown  University  —  Department  of  Political  and  Social 
Science: 
Will  you  kindly  inform  me  as  to  whether  the  papers  upon 
"Social  Economics"  which  you  have  written  for  the  "Andover 
Review"  have  appeared  in  any  other  form?  If  so,  are  they  to  be 
had  for  class  study,  and  how  may  they  be  procured? 

From  the  Principal  of  Bradford  Academy: 

I  belong  to  a  club  of  Bradford  and  Haverhill  ladies  who  are 
taking  up  this  subject,  following  your  plan,  by  my  suggestion. 
And  we  hope  to  have  some  public  meetings  in  Haverhill  this 
winter,  at  one  of  which  the  ladies  are  very  desirous  to  have  the 
pleasure  and  profit  of  an  address  from  you.  We  think  we  may 
get  a  company  of  manufacturers  and  perhaps  employees.  And 
we  hope  it  may  set  some  people  to  thinking. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  177 

Pastor  of  church  in  Topeka,  Kansas : 

I  am  growing  more  and  more  interested  in  the  sociological 
problem.  I  am  coming  to  believe  that  the  second  service  of  the 
church  should  be  directed  towards  this  line  of  work,  and  I  have 
a  church  here  that  is  ready  to  follow  in  this  departure  from  the 
old  traditional  conception  of  what  constitutes  proper  church 
work.  It  is  very  plain  to  me  that  the  church  must  in  some  very 
strong  way  face  the  question  of  the  hour,  or  else  acknowledge 
that  when  Christ  spoke  of  the  Life  more  abundantly  he  did  not 
mean  the  existence  we  have  to  live  on  the  earth. 

From  a  lawyer  in  Marietta,  Ohio: 

Will  you  please  inform  me  whether  or  not  you  have  published 
in  pamphlet  or  book  form  your  excellent  papers  on  "Social 
Economics"?  I  hope  to  see  all  you  have  published  on  that 
subject,  especially  on  "The  Treatment  of  Crime  and  of  the 
Criminal." 

From  a  firm  of  young  Boston  lawyers,  since  well  known  for 
their  interest  in  social  questions,  who  were  organizing  a 
class  in  the  Social  Science  Institute: 
If  your  work  were  in  an  accessible  form  we  should  make  con- 
stant use  of  it.  .  .  .  If  publication  in  separate  form  is  contem- 
plated, we  shall  plan  with  a  view  to  making  this  the  guide  for 
most  of  our  study.  Our  prospects  seem  now  fair.  It  is  difficult  to 
popularize  serious,  scholarly  research. 

From  a  California  clergyman: 

A  number  of  the  topics  treated  in  your  course  of  "Social 
Economics"  we  desire  to  study  in  our  Ministerial  Association. 
Our  plan  is,  to  lay  out  a  course  of  study  for  the  year,  giving 
authorities  on  the  subjects  selected  and  indicating  a  course  of 
reading  along  parallel  lines.  It  would  be  of  great  assistance  to  us 
if  we  could  obtain  in  advance  references  to  books  and  documents 
on  sections  II  and  III. 

Two  schemes  for  solving  the  social  problem  at  points 
where  it  was  most  acute  were  at  this  time  before  the  public. 


178  MY  GENERATION 

They  differed  widely,  but  each  required  careful  attention. 
One  of  them  called  for  a  critical  examination  of  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  it  rested;  the  other  invited  personal 
investigation  to  determine  its  practicability. 

In  June  and  December,  1889,  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie 
published  two  articles  in  the  "North  American  Review" 
under  the  titles,  "Wealth,"  and  "The  Best  Fields  of 
Philanthropy,"  which  at  the  instance  of  Mr.  Gladstone 
were  reprinted  in  the  "Pall  Mall  Gazette"  under  the 
more  striking  title,  "The  Gospel  of  Wealth."  This,  how- 
ever, was  the  term  in  which  Mr.  Carnegie  had  announced 
his  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  his  scheme,  "Such  in  my  opinion 
is  the  true  gospel  concerning  wealth,  obedience  to  which 
is  destined  some  day  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  and  to  bring  'peace  on  earth,  among  men  good 
will.'  "  In  explanation  of  the  practical  working  of  this 
"Gospel"  he  went  on  to  say: 

We  start  with  a  condition  of  affairs  [referring  to  the  competi- 
tive system]  under  which  the  best  interests  of  the  race  are  pro- 
moted, but  which  inevitably  gives  wealth  to  the  few.  Thus 
accepting  conditions  as  they  are,  the  situation  can  be  surveyed 
and  pronounced  good.  The  question  then  arises  —  and  if  the 
foregoing  be  correct  it  is  the  only  question  with  which  we  have 
to  deal  —  What  is  the  proper  mode  of  administering  wealth 
after  the  laws  upon  which  civilization  is  founded  have  thrown 
it  into  the  hands  of  the  few?  And  it  is  of  this  great  question 
that  I  believe  I  offer  the  true  solution.  It  will  be  understood  that 
fortunes  are  here  spoken  of,  not  moderate  sums  saved  by  many 
years  of  effort,  the  returns  from  which  are  required  for  the  com- 
fortable maintenance  and  education  of  families.  This  is  not 
wealth,  but  only  competence,  which  it  should  be  the  aim  of  all 
to  acquire,  and  which  it  is  for  the  best  interests  of  society  should 
be  acquired. 

There  are  but  three  modes  in  which  surplus  wealth  can  be 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  179 

disposed  of.  It  can  be  left  to  the  families  of  the  decedents;  or  it 
can  be  bequeathed  for  public  purposes;  or,  finally,  it  can  be 
administered  by  its  possessors  during  their  lives.  .  .  . 

Thus  is  the  problem  of  rich  and  poor  to  be  solved :  the  laws  of 
accumulation  will  be  left  free;  the  laws  of  distribution  free.  In- 
dividualism will  continue,  but  the  millionaire  will  be  but  a  trus- 
tee for  the  poor;  intrusted  for  a  season  with  a  great  part  of  the 
increased  wealth  of  the  community,  but  administering  it  for  the 
community  far  better  than  it  could  or  would  have  done  for  itself. 

If  Mr.  Carnegie  had  simply  made  public  use  of  his  own 
method  of  beneficence  or  philanthropy  as  an  example  of 
what  he  conceived  to  be  the  true  relation  of  private 
wealth  to  society,  even  if  it  had  been  in  the  way  of  a 
certain  self-exploitation,  his  announcement  would  have 
awakened  much  interest  and  could  not  have  fairly  sub- 
jected him  to  criticism.  As  it  was,  it  received  the  uncritical 
endorsement  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  Cardinal  Manning,  and 
many  others.  The  public  at  large  was  delighted  with  the 
aphorism,  "it  should  be  a  disgrace  for  a  man  to  die  rich," 
and  heartily  accepted  his  statements  about  the  curse  of 
wealth  as  a  family  inheritance.  There  was  a  dramatic 
interest  attending  the  struggle  of  this  modern  Laocoon  to 
keep  himself  and  his  family  from  being  strangled  in  the 
coils  of  his  enormous  income.  Here  was  a  man  who  was 
not  hoarding  his  riches,  or  flaunting  them  in  demoralizing 
luxuries.  Here,  too,  was  a  man  whose  business  career, 
judged  by  the  standards  of  the  time,  had  been  beneficent, 
due  allowance  being  made  for  the  fact  that  he  himself 
had  been  made  to  a  questionable  degree  a  beneficiary  of 
the  Government  through  the  operation  of  an  excessive 
tariff,  of  which  he  had  taken  advantage.  And  here  was  a 
man  who  was  endeavoring  to  carry  over  his  business  prin- 
ciples and  methods  into  his  benefactions. 


180  MY  GENERATION 

Mr.  Carnegie  was  entitled  to  the  credit  of  all  these  con- 
siderations and  others  of  a  more  personal  nature  at  the 
hands  of  his  critics.  Fair  criticism  began  with  the  theory 
of  the  relation  of  private  wealth  to  society,  which  Mr. 
Carnegie  put  out  as  a  gospel.  When  this  gospel  was  crit- 
ically examined  it  was  found  to  rest  upon  two  postulates  — 
first,  "we  start  with  a  condition  of  affairs  [referring  to  the 
then  existing  economic  system]  under  which  the  best 
interests  of  the  race  are  promoted,  but  which  inevitably 
gives  wealth  to  the  few";  and  second,  "the  millionaire  will 
be  but  a  trustee  for  the  poor,  intrusted  for  a  season  with 
a  great  part  of  the  increased  wealth  of  the  community, 
but  administering  it  for  the  community  jar  better  than  it 
could  or  would  have  done  for  itself"  A  gospel  of  wealth, 
embodying  these  principles  could  have  no  part  in  that 
social  reconstruction  which  was  to  insure  a  fairer  distribu- 
tion of  wealth,  and  to  impose  upon  society  itself  the  re- 
sponsibility for  its  public  uses.  The  publication  of  this 
"gospel,"  with  the  interest  attending  the  personal  appli- 
cation of  it,  brought  the  discussion  of  the  whole  social 
economy  to  a  clear  and  sharp  issue.  It  gave  a  new  meaning 
to  the  discussions  of  the  classroom,  and  to  those  public 
discussions  in  the  press  and  on  the  platform  which  had  to 
do  with  the  principles  and  methods  of  the  new  social 
order.  The  position  taken  in  the  Andover  classroom,  and 
from  time  to  time  in  public,  is  set  forth  in  an  article  in  the 
June  number,  1891,  of  the  "Andover  Review"  under  the 
title  "The  Gospel  of  Wealth." 

In  contrast  with  the  scheme  for  social  betterment  set 
forth  in  the  "Gospel  of  Wealth,"  a  social  experiment  had 
been  going  on  for  some  little  time  in  one  of  the  slums 
of  London  (the  Stepney  district  of  East  London) ,  where  a 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  181 

group  of  university  men  from  Oxford  had  "gone  into 
residence"  in  the  neighborhood  to  identify  themselves 
with  its  people  and  its  interests.  This  group  constituted 
the  university  or  social  settlement  known  as  Toynbee  Hall. 
The  striking  originality  of  the  settlement  idea  lay  in  its 
perfect  simplicity.  It  departed  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
institutional  idea  and  methods,  and  laid  the  emphasis 
altogether  upon  the  use  of  personality.  Its  aim  was  the 
identification  of  the  residents  with  their  neighbors  — 
first  to  know  them  and  their  conditions,  then  to  create 
a  neighborhood  consciousness,  and  then  to  initiate  and 
encourage  methods  for  mutual  service  in  behalf  of  the 
neighborhood.  The  scheme  was  singularly  free  from  all 
questionable  results  in  principle  or  theory,  but  was  it 
practicable?  And  if  practicable  in  London  could  it  be 
adjusted  to  social  conditions  in  New  York,  Chicago,  and 
Boston?  Fortunately  for  the  Seminary  in  its  purpose  to 
make  a  careful  investigation  of  the  working  of  the  Settle- 
ment idea,  an  arrangement  was  made  with  Mr.  Robert  A. 
Woods,  then  a  member  of  the  advanced  class  and  special- 
izing in  social  economics,  to  become  a  resident  at  Toynbee 
Hall.  He  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  year  1890  in  resi- 
dence, and  on  his  return  gave  a  course  of  lectures  at  the 
Seminary  embodying  the  results  of  his  studies  and  ex- 
periences, which  were  soon  published  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons  under  the  title  of  "English  Social  Movements"  — 
the  first  book  on  this  subject  from  the  American  point  of 
view.  The  outcome  of  this  investigation  of  the  working  of 
the  settlement  idea  through  the  residence  of  Mr.  Woods 
at  Toynbee  Hall,  was  the  establishment  of  the  Andover 
House  in  Boston  with  Mr.  Woods  as  Head  of  the  House. 
The  story  of  the  organization  and  early  development 


182  MY  GENERATION 

of  the  Andover  House,  including  the  exposition  of  its 
aims  as  then  put  before  the  public,  is  told  in  a  series  of 
printed  circulars  issued  at  the  time  and  on  file  at  the  South 
End  House.  The  record  of  the  "House"  since  its  estab- 
lishment is  to  be  found  in  the  annual  reports.  On  the 
occasion  of  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  its  founding, 
I  prepared  an  article  for  the  "Atlantic  Monthly"  (May, 
1917),  under  the  title  "Twenty-five  Years  in  Residence," 
which  gave  a  succinct  account  of  the  growth  of  the  social 
settlements  throughout  the  country  within  that  period. 
From  this  article  I  quote  in  part  the  specific  reference  to 
the  Andover  House,  known  since  1895  as  the  South  End 
House,  but  unchanged  in  its  object  or  general  manage- 
ment. The  "  House,"  from  the  beginning  until  now,  has 
been  a  constant  witness  to  the  insight,  the  breadth  of 
view,  the  courage  and  the  loyalty  to  the  "idea"  which 
have  characterized  the  remarkable  leadership  of  Mr. 
Woods ;  qualities  which  have  given  him  also  his  influence 
in  public  affairs. 

Although  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  South  End 
House,  Boston,  was  the  occasion,  not  the  subject,  of  this  article, 
a  closing  word  of  reference  is  due  to  the  "House"  as  being  in 
itself  one  of  the  most  complete  and  consistent  illustrations  of 
the  settlement  idea.  Forced  by  the  needs  of  the  neighborhood 
to  take  on  a  considerable  institutional  development,  it  has  in  no 
wise  departed  from  the  original  residential  type.  This  consist- 
ency of  development  has  been  secured  by  maintaining  an  un- 
usually large  residential  force,  and  by  scattering  its  working 
agencies  throughout  the  district  instead  of  concentrating  them 
at  one  locality.  There  are  in  the  settlement  to-day  thirty-two 
residents,  twelve  men  and  twenty  women.  Among  these  are 
five  married  couples  having  their  own  homes,  two  in  apart- 
ments provided  at  the  "House,"  three  at  different  points  in  the 
neighborhood.  Nine  of  the  residents  are  on  salaries  for  full  time 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  183 

and  three  for  part  time;  four  are  holders  of  fellowships;  the  re- 
mainder are  unpaid,  five  of  whom  devote  their  entire  time  to 
the  work.  To  the  residents  are  to  be  added  over  one  hundred 
associate  workers,  a  number  of  whom  are  from  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  whole  force  is  under  the  direction  of  a  staff  of  six  of 
the  most  experienced  workers.  One  fourth  of  the  residents  have 
been  in  service  for  over  four  years.  Mr.  Woods  has  been  the  head 
of  the  "House"  from  the  beginning,  the  only  instance,  except 
that  of  Miss  Addams,  of  like  continuous  service.  The  exceptional 
permanency  of  the  residential  force  has  given  special  value  to 
the  social  and  economic  investigations  of  the  "  House." 

An  interesting  experiment  was  carried  out  at  the  time 
in  applying  the  group  system  to  pastoral  work  in  rural 
communities.  Five  men  of  the  class  of  1892  at  Andover 
Seminary  —  W.  W.  Ranney,  Oliver  D.  Sewall,  James  C. 
Gregory,  Edward  R.  Stearns,  and  Edwin  R.  Smith  — 
joined  together  in  a  group  for  associated  work  in  neigh- 
boring churches  in  a  section  of  Maine  lying  for  the  most 
part  between  Farmington  and  the  Rangeley  Lakes.  They 
gave  over  for  a  term  of  years  the  home  life  of  a  parson- 
age, and  relied  for  their  social  stimulus  upon  close  rela- 
tion with  one  another  so  far  as  local  conditions  would 
permit.  The  churches  allowed  frequent  interchange  of 
service,  and  the  community  interests  were  so  much  alike 
that  the  same  plans  for  the  development  of  the  commun- 
ities were  applicable  to  all.  It  was  not  social  settlement 
work.  The  churches  as  such  were  the  essential  concern. 
The  question  of  the  sects  had  to  be  considered,  though 
the  spirit  of  union  was  uppermost  in  most  instances.  The 
individuality  of  the  man  of  the  country  above  that  of  the 
dweller  in  the  city  was  very  much  in  evidence.  But  the 
experiment,  largely  directed  and  aided  by  President  Hyde, 
of  Bowdoin,  was  successful  beyond  even  the  expectations 


184  MY  GENERATION 

it  had  raised,  and  the  experience  gained  by  members  of 
the  group  was  of  much  suggestive  and  stimulating  value 
in  their  later  and  more  permanent  pastorates.  The  work 
of  the  "Maine  Band"  was  an  object  lesson  in  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  group  method  in  its  application  to  the  more 
remote  and  difficult  rural  fields. 

I  should  not  wish  to  convey  the  impression  that  the 
exceptional  took  precedence  over  the  regular,  or  even  the 
conventional,  in  the  conduct  of  the  Department.  Certain 
things  were  done  outside  the  ordinary  routine,  because 
there  was  a  call  for  change  of  methods  of  work  as  well  as 
a  call  for  changes  in  the  statement  of  truth.  But  preaching 
was  preaching,  and  pastoral  service  was  pastoral  service 
under  all  changes;  and  the  supreme  object  of  the  Seminary 
was  the  same  that  it  had  been  from  the  beginning.  And 
what  was  true  of  my  department  was  true  of  all  the  de- 
partments. Any  one  going  over  the  courses  of  study  out- 
lined in  the  catalogues  of  the  period  will  be  surprised  to 
see  their  variety  and  extent.  The  prescribed  courses  were 
supplemented  in  all  the  departments  by  "optional"  and 
"elective"  courses.  A  fourth  year  for  advanced  study  was 
inaugurated  and  much  valued  by  many  graduates.  But 
through  all  the  advances  and  extensions  ran  the  broad 
but  straight  course  of  a  theological  discipline. 

The  fact  which  I  have  wished  to  make  clear  in  this 
glimpse  of  the  internal  life  of  the  Seminary  during  the 
period  of  conflict  is  this  —  the  work  was  of  first  inter- 
est, the  conflict  of  secondary  interest.  The  conflict  did  not 
hinder  the  work.  It  did  not  deter  many  students  from 
coming  to  Andover  or  distract  them  when  once  there.  The 
attack  upon  Andover  began  in  the  spring  of  1882,  in 
ample  time  to  affect  the  class  entering  the  Seminary  in 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  185 

the  fall  of  that  year.  The  class  which  then  entered  grad- 
uated in  1885.  Reckoning  onward  from  that  date,  the 
Seminary  graduated  in  the  decade  following  —  the  decade 
of  controversy  —  one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  men,  taking 
no  account  of  students  in  the  "Advanced  Class,"  some  of 
whom  were  always  from  other  seminaries.  Reckoning 
backward  from  the  same  date  (1885),  the  Seminary  grad- 
uated in  the  decade  preceding  the  controversy,  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty-four  men.  Measured  numerically  the  cost 
of  the  conflict  in  men  was  negligible.  Measured  in  terms 
of  quickened  and  extended  interest,  it  left  a  balance  of 
gain  to  the  Seminary.  As  I  have  followed  the  graduates  of 
those  years  into  their  professional  careers,  and  have  taken 
account  of  their  standing  and  influence  in  the  pulpit,  in 
theological  and  academic  chairs,  in  positions  of  executive 
authority,  and  in  the  more  advanced  forms  of  social 
service,  I  am  impressed  with  the  substantial  and  enduring 
qualities  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  power  developed  in 
the  stormy  period  of  their  theological  training. 

IV 

The  Andover  Trial  and  Its  Results 

Early  in  July,  1886,  each  of  the  five  professors  associated 
in  the  conduct  of  the  "Andover  Review"  and  joint  editors 
of  "Progressive  Orthodoxy,"  received  the  following  com- 
munication : 

Copy  from  record  of  meeting  of  Board  of  Visitors  at  Boston, 
July  7th,  1886,  in  respect  to  notice  of  Charges  to  be  made 
against  Professors  in  Andover  Theol.  Seminary. 

It  was  voted  —  that  the  Secretary  be  empowered  to  receive 
the  charges,  when  specified  and  signed  by  these  reverend  gentle- 
men, and  be  instructed  to  notify  the  parties,  against  whom  the 
charges  are  made,  of  the  filing  of  the  same,  and  furnish  a  copy 


186  MY  GENERATION 

thereof,  and  that  they  may  respectively  appear  and  file  an 
answer  within  fifteen  days  of  the  notice,  after  which  a  meeting 
shall  be  held  at  the  call  of  the  President,  to  hear  and  consider 
the  proofs  and  answers  to  said  charges  from  the  complainants 
and  respondents,  of  which  meeting  all  parties  shall  have  due 
notice. 

A  true  copy  of  record. 

W.  T.  Eustis,  Secy. 

A  second  communication  from  Dr.  Eustis,  dated  Spring- 
field, Massachusetts,  July  27,  was  received,  forwarding  a 
copy  of  the  charges  filed  with  the  Board  of  Visitors.  As 
these  charges  formed  the  basis  of  the  trial  which  followed, 
they  are  given  in  full ;  also  the  reply  of  the  professors  made 
within  the  specified  time. 

To  the  Reverend  and  Honorable,  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Andover: 
Gentlemen:  The  undersigned  —  understanding  that  the  Ad- 
ditional and  Associate  Statutes  of  the  Seminary  (Art.  X,  XX) 
require  your  Honorable  Body  to  take  care  that  the  duties  of 
every  Professor  in  the  Institution  be  intelligibly  and  faithfully 
discharged,  and  that  you  admonish  or  remove  him  either 
for  misbehavior,  heterodoxy,  incapacity,  or  neglect  of  duty; 
recognizing,  therefore,  the  duty  and  power  of  the  Visitors  to 
act  in  these  respects  either  with  or  without  suggestions  from 
other  parties;  and,  from  a  decision  of  your  Honorable  Body  of 
date  5  September,  1844,  inferring  that  it  is  regarded  as  imma- 
terial in  what  way  any  state  of  things  which  may  call  for  inter- 
position may  come  to  their  notice  —  did,  on  6  July  current, 
address  your  Honorable  Body,  asking  leave  to  present  at  that 
time  a  series  of  statements  which  should  illustrate  and  establish 
the  fact  that  certain  Professors  now  active  in  the  Seminary  hold 
and  teach,  there  and  elsewhere,  doctrines  not  in  accordance 
with  its  Foundation,  and  therefore  —  to  use  the  language  of  the 
Act,  which,  17  January  1824,  incorporated  the  Board  of  Visitors 
—  not  "according  to  the  terms  and  conditions  prescribed  by 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  187 

the  Statutes  of  the  Founders  thereof,  agreeably  to  the  intentions 
of  the  Founders." 

Our  purpose  was  not  to  table  formal  charges  against  our 
friends  the  Professors;  because  we  conceived  that  it  might  be  a 
more  regular  course  for  the  Visitors,  on  coming  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  an  existing  necessity,  themselves  to  enter  upon  an  in- 
vestigation of  the  alleged  facts,  in  such  manner  as  should  seem 
to  them  wisest  and  most  expedient. 

Your  Honorable  Body  were,  however,  pleased  to  suggest,  that 
in  the  present  instance,  a  different  course  would  better  meet 
your  views,  and  desired  us  to  formulate  the  substance  of  what 
we  felt  it  to  be  our  duty  to  urge,  in  propositions  which  may  in 
advance  be  furnished  to  those  to  whom  they  refer.  While  aware 
that  it  is  made  the  special  responsibility  of  the  Visitors,  of  their 
own  personal  movement,  to  be  on  the  alert  to  observe  departures 
from  the  true  intent  of  the  Founders  of  the  Seminary,  and  to 
initiate  measures  to  avoid  such  departures;  we  consent  in  any 
way  within  our  power  to  further  the  object  which  they  and  we 
may  well  be  supposed  to  have  in  common;  and  with  this  ex- 
planation we  cheerfully  comply  with  that  request,  and  proceed 
hereinafter  to  designate  certain  points  as  among  those  in  regard 
to  which  we  apprehend  that  the  five  Professors  who  edit  the 
"Andover  Review,"  through  utterances  in  the  said  "Review," 
in  the  book  called  "Progressive  Orthodoxy,"  and  in  their  in- 
structions in  the  Lecture  room  —  no  longer  continue  to  approve 
themselves  men  of  sound  and  Orthodox  principles  in  Divinity 
agreeably  to  the  Creed,  which  they  have  made  and  subscribed 
a  solemn  declaration  that  they  believe,  and  to  which  they  have 
promised  religiously  to  conform. 

From  a  sense  of  duty,  therefore,  we  are  constrained  to  bring 
before  your  Honorable  Body,  complaints  against  the  following 
Professors  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  to  wit: 
Rev.  Egbert  C.  Smyth,  D.D.,  Brown  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical 
History;  Rev.  William  J.  Tucker,  D.D.,  Bartlet  Professor  of 
Sacred  Rhetoric;  Rev.  J.  W.  Churchill,  M.A.,  Jones  Professor 
of  Elocution;  Rev.  George  Harris,  D.D.,  Abbot  Professor  of 
Christian  Theology;  and  Rev.  E.  Y.  Hincks,  D.D.,  Smith  Pro- 
fessor of  Biblical  Theology. 


188  MY  GENERATION 

I.  First,  we  charge  that  the  above-named  gentlemen,  to  wit: 
Professors  Smyth,  Tucker,  Churchill,  Harris,  and  Hincks,  hold 
beliefs,  have  taught  doctrines  and  theories,  and  have  done  other 
things  as  hereinafter  enumerated,  which  are  not  in  harmony 
with,  but  antagonistic  to,  the  Constitution  and  Statutes  of  the 
Seminary,  and  "the  true  intention"  of  its  Founders,  as  expressed 
in  those  Statutes. 

II.  Secondly,  we  charge  that  the  above-named  Professors, 
contrary  to  the  requirements  of  Articles  XI  and  XII  of  the  Con- 
stitution, as  modified  by  Article  I  of  the  Additional  Statutes, 
are  not  men  "of  sound  and  Orthodox  principles  in  Divinity 
according  to"  "the  fundamental  and  distinguishing  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  as  summarily  expressed  in  the  West- 
minster Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism  .  .  .  and  as  more  par- 
ticularly expressed  in  the  following  Creed,"  to  wit,  the  Creed  of 
the  Seminary;  but  that,  on  the  other  hand,  they  believe  and 
teach  in  several  particulars,  hereinafter  enumerated,  what  is 
antagonistic  to  the  Seminary  Creed,  and,  therefore,  in  violation 
of  the  Statutory  requirements  of  the  Founders. 

III.  Thirdly,  we  charge  that  two  of  the  above-mentioned 
gentlemen,  viz.,  Professors  Smyth  and  Tucker,  in  breach  of  the 
requirement  of  Art.  II  of  the  Associate  Foundation  upon  which 
they  are  placed,  are  not  "Orthodox  and  Consistent  Calvinists," 
but  on  the  other  hand,  believe  and  teach,  in  several  particulars, 
hereinafter  enumerated,  what  is  opposed  to  the  Seminary  Creed, 
—  the  Creed  in  which  the  donors  of  the  Associate  Foundation 
put  fully  and  clearly  on  record  their  conception  of  "Orthodox 
and  Consistent"  Calvinism. 

IV.  Fourthly,  we  charge  that  the  several  particulars  of  the 
"heterodoxy"  of  all  the  above-mentioned  Professors,  and  of 
their  opposition  to  the  Creed  of  the  Seminary,  and  to  the  "true 
intention"  of  the  Founders  as  expressed  in  their  Statutes  —  for 
any  or  all  of  which  particulars  of  heterodoxy,  and  opposition,  if 
proven,  the  Board  of  Visitors  is  required,  by  Articles  X  of  the 
Additional  Statutes  and  XX  of  the  Associate  Foundation,  to 
"admonish  or  remove"  them  —  are  as  follows,  to  wit:  They 
hold,  "maintain  and  inctdcate": 


THE  DEFENDANTS  IN  THE  ANDOVER  TRIAL 

George  Harris  William  J.  Tucker 

Egbert  C.  Smyth 

Edward  Y.  Hincks  John  W.  Churchill 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  189 

1.  That  the  Bible  is  not  the  only  perfect  rule  of  faith  and 
practice,  but  is  fallible  and  untrustworthy  even  in  some  of  its 
religious  teachings. 

2.  That  Christ,  in  the  days  of  His  humiliation,  was  merely 
a  finite  being  —  limited  in  all  His  attributes,  capacities,  and 
attainments. 

3.  That  no  man  has  power,  or  capacity,  to  repent,  without 
knowledge  of  the  historic  Christ. 

4.  That  mankind,  save  as  instructed  in  a  knowledge  of  the 
historic  Christ,  are  not  sinners,  or  if  they  are,  not  of  such  sin- 
fulness as  to  be  in  danger  of  being  lost. 

5.  That  no  man  can  be  lost  without  having  had  knowledge 
of  Christ. 

6.  That  the  Atonement  of  Christ  consists  essentially  and 
chiefly  in  His  becoming  identified  with  the  human  race  through 
His  Incarnation;  in  order  that,  by  His  union  with  men,  He 
might  endow  them  with  the  power  to  repent,  and  thus  impart 
to  them  an  augmented  value  in  the  view  of  God,  and  so  pro- 
pitiate God  to  men,  and  men  to  God. 

7.  That  the  Trinity  is  modal,  and  not  personal. 

8.  That  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  mainly  limited  to 
natural  methods,  and  within  historic  Christianity. 

9.  That  without  the  knowledge  of  the  historic  Christ,  men  do 
not  deserve  the  punishment  of  the  law,  and  that  therefore  their 
salvation  is  not  "wholly  of  grace." 

10.  That  faith  ought  to  be  scientific  and  rational,  rather  than 
Scriptural. 

11.  That  there  is  and  will  be  probation  after  death,  for  all  men 
who  have  not  in  this  world  had  knowledge  of  the  historic  Christ. 

12.  That  this  hypothetical  belief  in  probation  after  death 
should  be  brought  to  the  front,  exalted,  and  made  central  in 
theology,  and  in  the  beliefs  of  men. 

13.  That  Christian  missions  are  not  to  be  supported  and  con- 
ducted on  the  ground  that  men  who  know  not  Christ  are  in 
danger  of  perishing  forever,  and  must  perish  forever  unless 
saved  in  this  life. 

14.  That  a  system  of  physical  and  metaphysical  philosophy  is 


igo  MY  GENERATION 

true  which  by  fair  inference  neutralizes  the  Christian"  doctrine 
as  taught  in  the  Creed  of  the  Seminary. 

15.  That  there  is  a  "New  Theology  better  than  the  Old"; 
which  we  apprehend  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  Creed,  but 
fatally  opposed  to  the  same. 

16.  That  the  said  Professors  hold  and  teach  many  tilings 
which  cannot  be  reconciled  with  that  Orthodox  and  consistent 
Calvinism  which  the  Statutes  require  of  them,  and  to  which 
they  stand  publicly  committed;  and  that  in  repeated  instances 
these  Professors  have  broken  solemn  promises  made  when  they 
subscribed  the  Creed. 

The  undersigned  are  ready  to  appear  before  your  Honorable 
Body,  at  your  early  convenience,  and  sustain  by  specifications 
and  proofs  the  apprehensions  and  allegations  above  recounted, 
further  asking  leave  —  and  giving  hereby  to  our  friends  the  Pro- 
fessors notice  that  it  is  our  purpose  —  additionally  to  set  forth : 
That  the  pleas  publicly  made  by  them  in  justification  of  these 
departures  from  the  Statutes  of  the  Seminary  are  invalid;  and 
That  there  exists  in  the  religious  community  a  widespread 
and  positive  judgment,  that  the  teachings  to  which  we  have 
referred  are  scandalously  inconsistent  with  any  honest  and 
hearty  acceptance  of  the  Creed;  which  judgment,  for  the  good 
name  of  the  Seminary,  the  honor  of  Evangelical  religion,  and 
the  honest  administration  of  trust  funds  given  by  devout 
and  generous  donors  for  specific  purposes,  requires  immediate 
and  grave  consideration. 

Supplicating  the  God  of  Truth  and  Holiness  to  guide  your 
Honorable  Body,  our  friends  the  Professors,  and  ourselves,  in 
all  this  painful  business  as  shall  most  advantage  His  cause,  we 
subscribe  ourselves  Faithfully  yours 

J.  W.  Wellman 

A  Trustee  of  the  Seminary. 
H.  M.  Dexter 
O.  T.  Lanphear 
J.  J.  Blaisdell 

Committee  of  certain  of  the  Alumni 
Boston,  Mass. 
23  July,  1886 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  191 

Joint  reply  of  the  Professors,  each  under  his  own  name : 

To  Rev.  W.  T.  Eustis,  D.D.,  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Visitors 
of  Andover  Theological  Seminary. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  received  from  you  under  date  of  July 
27,  1886,  a  copy  of  the  vote  of  the  Board  of  Visitors  passed  at 
a  meeting  of  the  Board  held  in  Boston,  July  7,  1886,  and  which 
reads  as  follows:  "It  was  voted  that  the  Secretary  be  empowered 
to  receive  the  charges  when  specified  and  signed  by  these  rev- 
erend gentlemen,  and  be  instructed  to  notify  the  parties, 
against  whom  the  charges  are  made,  of  the  filing  of  the  same, 
and  furnish  a  copy  thereof,  and  that  they  may  respectively 
appear  and  file  an  answer  within  fifteen  days  of  the  notice,  after 
which  a  meeting  shall  be  held,  at  the  call  of  the  President,  to 
hear  and  consider  the  proofs  and  answers  to  said  charges  from 
the  complainants  and  respondents,  of  which  meeting  all  parties 
shall  have  due  notice."  I  have  also  received  from  you  a  printed 
copy  of  charges  and  specifications  filed  against  Egbert  C.  Smyth, 
William  J.  Tucker,  J.  W.  Churchill,  George  Harris,  and  E.  Y. 
Hincks,  by  J.  W.  Wellman,  a  Trustee  of  the  Seminary,  and 
Henry  M.  Dexter,  O.  T.  Lanphear,  and  J.  J.  Blaisdell,  a  Commit- 
tee of  certain  Alumni  whose  names  are  not  given.  This  copy  is 
dated  Boston,  Mass.,  July  23,  1886. 

From  introductory  statements  in  the  letter  of  the  reverend 
gentlemen  we  learn  that  they  addressed  you,  July  6,  asking 
leave  to  present  at  that  time  a  series  of  statements  (here  fol- 
lowed a  quotation  concerning  that  which  they  intended  to 
show),  that  their  purpose  was  to  incite  you  to  inquire  into  our 
alleged  nonconformity  to  the  requirements  of  the  constitution 
and  creed  of  the  Seminary,  that  instead  of  yourselves  initiating 
the  investigation  thus  requested  you  suggested  to  them  to 
formulate  what  they  felt  it  to  be  their  duty  to  urge. 

I  am  perfectly  willing  now,  and  at  all  times,  as  in  duty  bound, 
to  acquaint  your  honorable  body  with  whatever  pertains  to  my 
teaching  and  conduct  as  a  Professor  in  Andover  Theological 
Seminary.  For  your  information  solely,  I  now  make  answer 
frankly  but  briefly,  as  suited  to  the  present  situation,  to  the 


192  MY  GENERATION 

printed  charges  and  specifications.  This  reply  is  not  of  the  nature 
of  a  defense,  but  simply  expresses  my  sense  of  the  truth  or  perti- 
nence of  said  charges  and  specifications,  but  I  am  ready,  if  desired, 
upon  sufficient  notice,  to  vindicate  myself  against  them.  I  now 
simply  define  my  general  relation  to  their  matter  or  contents. 

In  making  these  replies  I  do  not  concede  the  right  of  the 
reverend  gentlemen  who  sign  the  charges  to  appear  against  me 
before  the  Visitors.  I  take  exception  to  their  competence  as 
prosecutors,  and  hereby  reserve  all  rights  involved  in  taking 
such  exception.  I  also  reserve  all  other  rights  which  relate  to 
mode  of  procedure,  and  which  attach  to  any  legal  aspects  of  the 
case  which  are  or  may  be  involved. 

To  charges  I,  II,  and  III,  and  those  portions  of  IV  designated 
as  14,  15,  and  16,  being  of  a  general  or  indefinite  character,  I 
answer  by  a  general  denial.  I  further  answer  to  the  remaining 
specifications  under  IV  as  follows:  — 

(1.)  I  deny  the  allegation. 

(2.)  I  deny  the  allegation. 

(3.)  I  deny  the  allegation. 

(4.)  I  deny  the  allegation,  teaching  that  all  men  are  sinners 
and  are  already  lost  until  saved  by  Christ. 

(5.)  The  statement  is  ambiguous.  If  it  means  that  man  left 
to  himself  is  not  under  condemnation,  I  deny  the  allegation.  If  it 
means  that  in  view  of  God's  gracious  revelation  in  Christ  no  man 
will  be  hopelessly  and  eternally  lost  who  has  not  had  knowledge 
of  Christ,  I  admit  I  hold  such  an  opinion  as  having  a  high  degree 
of  probability,  and  maintain  that  it  is  not  excluded  by  the  Creed. 

(6.)  I  hold  a  view  substantially  like  this  as  being  an  important 
but  not  the  chief  part  of  the  truth  of  the  Atonement. 

(7.)  I  hold  and  teach  precisely  the  opposite  view,  that  the 
Trinity  of  Divine  Being  is  personal  or  ontological,  and  not 
modal  or  economical. 

(8.)  I  hold  that  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  supernatural 
and  chiefly  under  the  conditions  of  truth  and  motive  supplied 
by  the  gospel. 

(9.)  See  answers  to  4  and  5. 

(10.)  I  hold  that  if  faith  is  Scriptural  it  will  be  scientific  and 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  193 

rational,  and  vice  versa,  but  I  do  not  fancy  the  term  scientific  as 
applied  to  faith. 

(11.)  I  do  not  employ  the  phrase  "the  historic  Christ"  as 
equivalent  to  the  "gospel."  My  belief  in  the  universality  of 
Atonement  which  is  affirmed  in  the  Creed,  yields  as  a  natural 
corollary  the  belief  that  all  men  will  have  knowledge  of  God 
in  Christ. 

(12.)  I  do  not  so  hold  nor  teach.  No  one  could  hold  that  a 
hypothetical  belief  could  be  central  in  theology  and  in  the 
belief  of  men. 

(13.)  I  recognize  the  danger  of  men  and  their  lost  estate  without 
Christ  as  motives  to  preach  the  gospel  to  them,  but  not  the  only 
motives.  Punishment  is  not  the  chief  motive  power  of  the  gospel. 

All  of  which  is  respectfully  submitted. 

[Signed  by  each  and  all  of  the  accused  Professors.] 

Upon  the  same  day  on  which  the  answer  to  the  charges 
was  received  by  Dr.  Eustis,  he  wrote  in  behalf  of  the  Vis- 
itors to  Professor  Egbert  C.  Smyth  inquiring  whether,  in 
place  of  the  proposed  meeting  of  the  Board  with  the  com- 
plainants and  the  defendants,  "if  the  allegations  of  the 
complainants  ...  in  support  of  their  charges  should  be 
presented  in  writing,"  the  professors  would  make  answer 
in  the  same  way.  In  forwarding  this  proposal  to  his  col- 
leagues, who  were  then  widely  scattered  during  the  va- 
cation, Professor  Smyth  expressed  himself  as  strongly 
opposed.  "I  prefer,"  he  said,  "something  very  different. 
If  the  trial  is  to  go  on  it  seems  to  me  now  that  it  ought  to 
be  public  and  at  Andover,  where  the  library  and  our  au- 
thorities are.  We  have  been  maligned  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba.  Let  our  accusers  now  face  the  music.  Hold  them  to 
every  specification  and  the  Visitors  to  a  verdict  on  each. 
...  If  any  trial  is  had  I  go  for  thoroughness."  In  this  sen- 
timent all  the  accused  professors  heartily  concurred  and 
unanimously  declined  the  proposal  of  the  Visitors. 


194  MY  GENERATION 

Whether  this  declination  led  the  complainants  to  ask 
leave  to  make  certain  changes  in  the  form  of  their  com- 
plaint, or  whether  these  changes  were  made  by  direct 
order  of  the  Visitors  is  not  known.  But  on  November  8 
a  document  entitled  "Amended  Complaint"  was  sent  to 
each  of  the  accused  professors  by  the  secretary  of  the 
Board,  according  to  which  further  proceedings  were  to 
take  place.  The  copy  sent  to  me  follows: 

In  the  matter  of  the  Complaint  against  Egbert  C.  Smyth  and 
others,  Professors  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover. 

AMENDED  COMPLAINT 

To  the  Reverend  and  Honorable  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Andover: 
Pursuant  to  a  decree  of  your  Honorable  Board,  passed  October 
25th,  a.d.  1886,  the  undersigned  respectfully  ask  leave  to  file 
the  following  amended  complaint  against  Rev.  Wm.  J.  Tucker, 
D.D.,  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  in  said  Seminary,  to  wit: 

We  charge  the  said  Wm.  J.  Tucker,  Professor  as  aforesaid, 
holds,  maintains  and  inculcates,  doctrines  not  according  to  the 
terms  and  conditions  prescribed  by  the  Statutes  of  the  Foun- 
dation of  said  Seminary,  but  antagonistic  to  the  same. 

And  for  further  specification  of  Complaint,  we  beg  leave  to 
refer  to  the  Amended  Complaint  this  day  presented  to  this 
Honorable  Board  by  the  undersigned,  against  Egbert  C.  Smyth, 
Brown  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  said  Seminary, 
and  to  make  the  charges  and  specifications  therein  contained 
a  part  of  this  complaint  in  all  respects  as  fully  as  if  said  charges 
were  herein  set  forth  in  the  same  words. 

J.  W.  Wellman 
H.  M.  Dexter 
A  true  copy  O.  T.  Lanphear 

Attest :  W.  T.  Eustis,  Sec'y       J.  J.  Blaisdell 

by 
Asa  French 

Boston,  Massachusetts  their  Att'y 

8th  November,  1886 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  195 

Then  follow  the  original  specifications  enlarged  by 
further  citations  from  "Progressive  Orthodoxy"  and  from 
the  "Andover  Review." 

There  were  certain  formal  respects  in  which  the 
"Amended  Complaint"  differed  from  the  original  com- 
plaint. 

(1)  The  charges  were  made  against  the  accused  pro- 
fessors individually  rather  than  collectively  —  referring  in 
each  case  for  specifications  to  the  Amended  Complaint 
against  Egbert  C.  Smyth,  the  charges  and  specifications 
therein  contained  to  be  made  a  part  of  this  complaint. 

(2)  The  more  general  charges  of  the  original  complaint 
were  withdrawn  or  reduced  to  the  simple  charge  that  each 
professor  named  "holds,  maintains,  and  inculcates  doc- 
trines not  according  to  the  terms  and  conditions  prescribed 
by  the  Statutes  of  the  Foundation  of  said  Seminary,  but 
antagonistic  to  the  same." 

(3)  The  complainants  laid  aside  their  assumed  repre- 
sentative character  and  signed  the  complaint  as  individuals. 

(4)  The  "Amended  Complaint"  was  presented  to  the 
Visitors  through  legal  counsel,  who  now  appear  in  the  case 
for  the  first  time. 

The  "Amended  Complaint,"  though  simplified,  did  not 
remove  the  doubt  created  by  the  original  complaint  as 
to  the  specific  object  of  the  charges.  In  general,  each 
seemed  to  point  to  a  trial  for  heresy;  but  this  purpose 
was  vehemently  denied  by  the  chief  complainant.  Just 
before  the  publication  of  the  "Amended  Complaint,"  Dr. 
Dexter  had  sent  the  following  communication  to  the 
"Boston  Evening  Transcript": 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Transcript:  On  my  return  from  an  absence 
of  three  weeks  in  the  interior,  my  attention  is  called  to  the  fact 


196  MY  GENERATION 

that  sundry  journals,  and  your  own  among  the  number,  have 
intimated  that  the  odious  theological  methods  of  the  fifteenth 
century  are  being  revived  in  order  to  attempt,  before  the 
"proper  authorities,"  to  crush  for  heresy  sundry  professors  in 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover.  I  beg  to  say  that  the 
only  suit  against  those  gentlemen  to  which  I  am  a  party,  and 
the  only  one  which  I  know  anything  about,  is  a  friendly  one,  to 
determine  whether  or  not  they  are  guilty  of  perhaps  the  most 
stupendous  breach  of  trust  of  a  century  not  unmarked  by  such 
crimes.  One  would  think  that  in  a  community  of  high-mjnded 
merchants  and  ingenuous  business  men  such  an  endeavor  would 
be  received  with  a  decent  candor,  rather  than  a  spirit  of  per- 
sistent, if  not  malignant  misrepresentation. 
I  have  the  honor  to  be 

Faithfully  yours 

Henry  M.  Dexter 

The  Congregationalist 

No.  1,  Somerset  Street,  Boston 

Oct.  23,  1886 

Doubtless  this  communication  correctly  expressed  the 
animus  of  the  complainants,  but  the  idea  of  a  criminal 
indictment  was  in  no  respect  agreeable  to  their  legal 
counsel.  When  pressed  by  Judge  Baldwin  at  the  opening 
of  the  trial  to  state  the  specific  charge,  Judge  Hoar  replied 
with  some  impatience,  "These  gentlemen  are  charged 
with  heterodoxy.  Our  position  is  that  it  is  heterodoxy 
because  the  framers  of  this  Andover  Creed  have  required 
a  certain  conformity  to  that  creed;  and  the  sole  question 
which  we  present  for  decision  before  the  Board  of  Visitors 
is  whether  they  have  departed  from  it  or  not." 

As  between  Judge  Hoar's  charge  of  limited  "heter- 
odoxy "  (heterodoxy,  that  is,  limited  to  variance  from  the 
Andover  Creed)  and  Dr.  Dexter's  indictment  for  "breach 
of  trust,"  there  seemed  to  be  a  wide  difference,  but  it  was 
finally  seen  to  resolve  itself  into  the  difference  between 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  197 

the  excited  feelings  of  the  complainants  and  the  cool  judg- 
ment of  their  counsel.  iVon-conformity  to  the  Creed  might 
possibly  be  interpreted  as  a  breach  of  trust;  but  before 
that  interpretation  could  be  put  upon  it,  it  was  certainly 
necessary  to  prove  the  charge  of  non-conformity. 

The  issue  as  presented  to  the  Visitors  through  the 
"Amended  Complaint,"  though  somewhat  simplified,  was 
not  so  simple  as  it  appeared  to  be.  It  had  an  historical 
background.  The  questions  involved  were  broad  and 
fundamental.  They  were  such  as  these  —  What  was  the 
nature  of  the  obligations  assumed  by  subscription  to 
creeds  on  religious  foundations?  What  had  been  the 
usage  in  subscription  to  the  Andover  Creed?  What  was 
the  theological  intent  and  purpose  of  the  Creed  itself? 
These  were  questions  of  vital  interest-  affecting  all  insti- 
tutions founded  or  endowed  under  obligations  to  a  creed. 
They  invited  the  most  thorough  and  in  every  way  com- 
petent treatment. 

The  counsel  brought  into  the  trial  were  men  of  unusual 
fitness  for  their  duty  —  on  the  part  of  the  complainants 
Judge  Rockwood  Hoar,  Judge  Asa  French,  and  Arthur 
H.  Wellman,  Esq.,  son  of  one  of  the  complainants;  on  the 
part  of  the  defendants,  Judge  Theodore  W.  Dwight,  of 
New  York;  Professor  Simeon  E.  Baldwin,  of  the  Yale  Law 
School;  Judge  Russell,  a  former  Visitor;  and  ex-Governor 
Gaston.  Of  these  the  most  picturesque  figure  was  Judge 
Hoar,  partly  through  his  personality,  and  partly  because 
of  the  open  and  often  humorous  expression  of  his  mental 
attitude  toward  the  controversy  —  "a  plague  o'  both 
your  houses." 

The  trial  was  set  for  December  28,  1886,  and  continued 
through  January  3,  1887.  It  was  held  in  one  of  the  large 


198  MY  GENERATION 

dining-halls  of  the  United  States  Hotel,  Boston,  which 
had  been  converted  under  the  interested  supervision  of 
the  landlord,  Tilly  Haynes,  into  a  rather  imposing  and 
altogether  convenient  courtroom.  The  number  of  adjacent 
apartments  suitable  for  retiring  and  conference  rooms 
added  much  to  the  convenience  of  the  "court."  The  at- 
tendance at  all  the  sessions  was  large;  often  the  hall, 
seating  several  hundred,  was  crowded.  The  interest  ex- 
tended beyond  the  friends  of  the  Seminary  or  of  the 
parties  immediately  concerned,  and  beyond  the  religious 
public,  attracting  the  attention  of  many  lawyers  and 
business  men.  The  proceedings  were  fully  reported,  and 
editorially  commented  upon,  by  the  daily  press. 

The  absence  of  two  interested  parties  from  any  formal 
participation  in  the  trial  called  forth  considerable  com- 
ment: the  absence  of  students  as  witnesses,  explained  by 
the  fact  already  mentioned  that  the  outspokenness  of  the 
"Review"  had  precluded  any  necessity  for  the  invasion 
of  the  classroom  to  secure,  if  possible,  testimony  adverse 
to  the  accused  professors;  and  the  absence  of  the  Trustees 
in  their  official  capacity,  due  to  the  refusal  of  the  Visitors 
to  recognize  them  as  a  party  to  the  trial.  The  enforced 
absence  of  the  Trustees  from  this  cause  was  to  have  a 
decisive  bearing  upon  the  final  issue  of  the  "case." 

The  trial  was  carried  on  in  the  main  according  to  the 
routine  of  legal  procedure.  The  argument  of  the  counsel 
for  the  complainants  was  based  upon  the  stringency  and 
explicitness  of  the  terms  of  the  Andover  Foundation.  The 
revised  Creed,  which  was  a  part  of  the  compact  between 
the  original  and  associate  founders,  was  to  be  an  un- 
changeable document.  Subscription  to  such  a  creed  as- 
sumed its  literal  interpretation.  This  was  the  burden  of 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  199 

the  argument  of  both  Judge  Hoar  and  Judge  French. 
Dr.  Dexter  argued,  out  of  his  familiarity  with  the  history 
of  the  New  England  churches,  that  any  omission  from 
the  Creed  of  a  definite  condemnation  of  the  theory  of  a 
possible  future  probation  could  not  be  construed  as  allow- 
ing the  theory  —  a  theory  which  was  not  accepted,  and 
would  not  have  been  tolerated  at  the  time  when  the  An- 
dover  Creed  was  written.  He  introduced  a  vast  amount  of 
documentary  evidence  from  the  creeds  of  the  churches, 
and  from  sermons,  to  show  the  state  of  belief  at  the  time. 
Dr.  Wellman  took  up  the  charges,  specification  by  speci- 
fication, to  show  that  in  all  the  cases  specified  the  holdings 
of  the  accused  professors  were  out  of  harmony  with  the 
Creed,  and  subversive  of  its  plain  requirements. 

The  defense  began  with  an  elaborate  review  by  Judge 
Dwight  of  the  history  of  English  charitable  and  religious 
foundations,  showing  how  they  had  been  construed  in  the 
English  ecclesiastical  courts,  and  in  the  courts  of  law. 
Professor  Baldwin  continued  the  legal  argument  by  show- 
ing how  the  Andover  Foundation  had  actually  been  con- 
strued, and  introduced  the  testimony  of  the  more  recently 
inaugurated  professors  to  prove  the  latitude  allowed  in 
the  terms  of  subscription  to  the  Creed.  Judge  Russell  laid 
special  stress  upon  the  fact  that  the  Board  of  Visitors  had 
already  passed  upon  the  very  issue  now  before  them, 
when  they  declared  that  "the  Visitors  have  been  con- 
vinced of  the  general  harmony  of  Dr.  [Newman]  Smyth's 
theological  views  with  those  which  have  been  identified 
with  the  history  of  Andover  Seminary  from  the  begin- 
ning." The  argument  of  Professor  Smyth,  whose  case 
had  been  made  by  agreement  that  of  all  the  accused 
professors,  was  a  surprise  to  the  complainants,  in  some 


200  MY  GENERATION 

respects  a  disconcerting  surprise.  Instead  of  making  it 
a  personal  defense  or  a  defense  of  his  colleagues,  it  was  a 
bold  and  aggressive  defense  of  the  Andover  Creed,  prov- 
ing by  careful  historical  testimony  and  by  equally  careful 
analysis  that  it  was  not  an  antiquated  or  reactionary 
document,  but  rather  one  of  the  landmarks  in  the  history 
of  theological  progress.  The  unchangeableness  which  had 
been  insisted  upon  by  the  Associate  Founders  was  not  to 
prevent  progress,  but  to  give  the  necessary  assurance 
against  retrogression.  An  instrument  so  conceived  and 
guarded  could  not  be  used  in  after  times  as  obstructive 
to  theological  progress,  nor  could  its  unchangeableness, 
so  solemnly  insisted  upon,  be  construed  into  an  argument 
for  literalness  in  interpretation.  The  relatively  brief 
statements  of  the  other  professors  were  simply  supple- 
mentary to  this  argument,  having  to  do  with  the  special 
provisions  pertaining  to  their  respective  professorships. 
What  was  of  more  significance  was  their  direct  testimony 
in  regard  to  the  terms  of  their  individual  subscription 
to  the  Creed,  which  had  been  tacitly  or  expressly  sanc- 
tioned by  the  Visitors.1 

I  think  that  I  was  the  first  to  make  a  public  statement 

1  I  have  given  in  mere  outline  the  running  course  of  the  arguments  on  either 
side.  The  arguments  ran  through  five  days,  of  two  sessions,  and  occupied  on 
the  average  four  hours  each.  For  any  analysis  of  the  content  of  the  arguments, 
the  reader  is  referred  to  the  reports  of  the  Boston  papers,  and  of  the  Springfield 
Republican  covering  the  dates,  December  28,  1886,  to  January  4,  1887;  to  the 
files  of  the  Congregationalist  preceding  and  following  the  trial;  to  the  files  of  the 
Independent  for  January  6  and  13,  1887,  giving  substantially  a  verbatim  report; 
and  to  the  Andover  Defense,  in  which  all  the  arguments  of  the  counsel  for  the 
defense,  the  argument  of  Professor  Smyth  and  the  statements  and  testimony  of 
his  colleagues  are  given  in  authorized  form  in  a  book  of  315  pages.  I  am  not 
aware  of  any  like  publication  presenting  the  case  of  the  complainants.  The 
proceedings  before  the  Supreme  Court  on  the  appeal  of  Professor  Smyth  and  on 
the  petition  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  are  matters  of  court  record.  The  findings  of 
the  Visitors  and  of  the  court  are  recorded  from  time  to  time  in  the  Andover 
Review.  The  final  record  appears  in  the  November  number,  1892. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  201 

at  the  time  of  signing  the  Creed.  What  I  then  said  appears 
from  the  following  record. 

Q.  (By  Judge  Baldwin.)  Will  you  state,  Professor  Tucker, 
whether  anything  was  said  by  you  as  to  your  subscription  to 
the  Creed  at  the  time  of  your  induction  into  office? 

A.  I  find  this  statement  which  I  made  upon  my  subscription 
to  the  Creed,  July  1,  1880.  I  did  not  meet  with  the  Board  of 
Visitors  upon  my  election,  not  having  been  notified  by  them  of 
any  call  to  that  effect.  When  I  took  the  Creed  I  took  it  reading 
this  statement  before  subscription:  "The  Creed  which  I  am 
about  to  read,  and  to  which  I  shall  subscribe,  I  fully  accept  as 
setting  forth  the  truth  against  the  errors  which  it  was  designed 
to  meet.  No  confession  so  elaborate,  and  with  such  intent  may 
assume  to  be  the  final  expression  of  truth,  or  an  expression 
equally  fitted  in  language  or  tone  to  all  times." 

Cross-Examination 

Q.  (By  Judge  Hoar.)  You  say  that  accompanied  your  sig- 
nature to  the  Creed? 

A.  It  was  not  copied  into  the  book;  the  reading  of  it  accom- 
panied the  signature. 

Q.  You  read  that  at  the  time  when  it  was  proposed  to  you, 
you  should  sign  the  Creed,  and  then  you  signed  the  Creed  with- 
out putting  down  more  than  your  name? 

A.  Simply  my  name. 

Q.  And  to  whom  was  this  exposition  given? 

A.  This  was  given  in  the  presence  of  the  Trustees  and  Vis- 
itors so  far  as  present.  I  do  not  remember  who  were  there;  it 
was  a  public  inauguration. 

Q.  It  was  not  a  matter  of  consultation  with  the  Visitors  be- 
forehand, as  to  whether  that  would  be  all  that  the  constitution 
of  the  Seminary  would  require? 

A.  It  was  not.  I  made  the  statement  before  reading  the  Creed, 
then  read  the  Creed,  and,  no  objection  being  made,  signed  the 
Creed  after  that  statement. 

The  material  point  in  this  testimony  is  not  the  state- 


202  MY  GENERATION 

ment  of  the  sense  in  which  I  took  the  Creed,  but  the 
fact  that  I  stated  there  was  a  sense  in  which  I  could 
fully  accept  it,  and  another  sense  in  which  I  regarded  it  as 
incomplete  and  insufficient. 

The  testimony  of  Professor  Harris  and  his  colleagues, 
who  took  the  Creed  two  years  later  at  the  time  of  their 
inauguration,  discloses  the  form  upon  which  they  agreed 
in  their  subscription  —  a  form  to  which  the  Visitors  gave 
their  sanction.  The  testimony  of  Professor  Harris  covers 
the  case  of  the  others: 

Q.  (By  Judge  Baldwin.)  State,  if  you  please,  Dr.  Harris, 
what  were  the  circumstances  attending  your  assent  to  the 
statutes  and  Creed  of  the  Seminary  at  the  time  of  your  receiving 
the  appointment  to  the  professorship  you  now  hold. 

A.  We  submitted  to  the  Visitors  —  I  think  I  was  the  person 
who  submitted  it  —  a  proposal  of  the  form  in  which  we  were 
willing  to  take  the  Andover  Creed,  which,  as  nearly  as  I  re- 
member, was  this:  "I  accept"  (my  uncertainty  is  as  to  that 
word  "accept")  "this  Creed  as  expressing  substantially  the  sys- 
tem of  truth  taught  in  the  Holy  Scriptures."  The  proposal  was, 
to  accompany  our  signatures,  either  in  writing  or  orally,  with  this 
statement,  when  the  Creed  should  be  publicly  taken.  To  this 
the  president  of  the  Board  replied  that  there  was  no  objection 
to  it,  and  that  for  his  own  part,  he  thought  it  would  have  a  good 
effect  in  the  existing  state  of  public  opinion.  I  do  not,  of  course, 
quote  the  language,  but  the  statement  in  general.  I  am  not 
aware  that  the  Board  of  Visitors  passed  any  formal  vote  in  this 
matter,  but  it  was  a  distinct  understanding,  considered  on  our 
part  as  having  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  an  agreement  with 
them,  that  we  should  take  the  Creed  under  those  conditions. 
When  the  time  of  our  induction  into  office  came,  the  Creed  was 
so  taken  by  each  of  us,  with  the  statement  which  I  have  desig- 
nated, and,  as  we  understood,  with  the  sanction,  not  only  of 
the  Board  of  Trustees,  but  also  with  the  sanction  of  the  Board 
of  Visitors. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  203 

The  trial  before  the  Visitors  closed  on  the  3d  of  January, 
1887.  Five  months  later,  June  17,  the  Visitors  rendered 
their  decision,  condemning  Professor  Smyth  for  holding 
views  contrary  to  the  Creed  of  the  Seminary  and  removing 
him  from  his  professorship,  but  passing  no  judgment  upon 
the  theological  views  of  his  associates  and  leaving  them 
undisturbed  in  their  chairs.  The  decision  at  once  aroused 
a  deep  sense  of  injustice,  equaled  only  by  an  impatient 
desire  to  know  through  what  subterfuge  such  a  miscar- 
riage of  justice  could  have  been  effected.  The  length  of 
time  taken  in  preparing  the  verdict  precluded  the  possi- 
bility of  an  undesigned  or  accidental  cause.  In  the  absence 
of  any  explanation  from  the  Board  conjectures  were  rife. 
The  calculation,  based  upon  a  plausible  analysis  of  the 
vote,  which  was  afterward  confirmed  by  direct  legal  tes- 
timony, was  to  the  effect  that  President  Seelye  voted  to 
acquit  all  the  accused  professors,  such  a  vote  being  re- 
garded as  consistent  with  his  vote  on  a  previous  occasion 
rejecting  Dr.  Newman  Smyth  on  other  than  theological 
grounds;  that  Mr.  Marshall,  the  new  member  of  the 
Board,  voted  to  condemn  all;  and  that  Dr.  Eustis  voted 
to  condemn  Professor  Smyth,  but  declined  to  vote  in  the 
case  of  his  associates  —  the  how  and  why  of  his  action 
being  undetermined.  It  appeared  later,  from  the  records 
of  the  Board,  that  Dr.  Eustis  excused  himself  from  voting 
on  the  cases  of  the  four  professors  in  question,  on  the 
ground  that  he  was  not  present  at  the  session  when  they 
made  their  individual  statements.  His  absence  at  the  time 
was  noted  and  the  attention  of  the  Board  was  called  to  the 
fact.  The  Board  ruled  that  his  absence  would  in  no  way 
invalidate  the  proceedings,  provided  a  stenographic  re- 
port was  made  to  be  submitted  to  Dr.  Eustis,  and  ordered 


204  MY  GENERATION 

the  continuance  of  the  session.  This  ruling  was  accepted 
by  the  counsel  for  the  complainants.  The  provision  was 
complied  with  and  an  accurate  stenographic  report  was 
in  due  time  submitted.  The  ruling  of  his  associates  did 
not,  however,  seem  to  satisfy  the  scrupulous  sense  of 
honor  on  the  part  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Board,  and  he 
refused  to  take  advantage  of  it.  "A  similar  instance  of  so 
delicate  a  sense  of  propriety,"  remarked  an  editorial 
critic,  "has  never  come  to  our  knowledge."  The  question 
why  Dr.  Eustis  declined  to  vote  for  the  removal  of  all  the 
accused  professors,  in  view  of  his  outspoken  denunciation 
at  various  times  of  all  concerned,  was  never  clearly  an- 
swered. The  uncontradicted  rumor  was  current  that  this 
evasive  action  was  taken  in  the  fear  that  more  complete 
and  drastic  action  involving  the  practical  reorganization 
of  the  Faculty,  would  disrupt  the  Board.  Upon  this  sup- 
position, the  Board  did  not  anticipate  what  would  have 
followed  if  the  associates  of  Professor  Smyth  had  taken 
his  dismissal  as  a  finality,  namely,  their  immediate 
resignation. 

According  to  Art.  XXV,  Statutes  of  the  Associate 
Foundation, "  the  Board  of  Visitors  in  all  their  proceedings 
are  to  be  subject  to  our  Statutes  herein  expressed,  and  to 
conform  their  measures  thereto;  and,  if  they  shall  at  any 
time  act  contrary  to  these,  or  exceed  the  limits  of  their 
jurisdiction  and  constitutional  power,  the  party  aggrieved 
may  have  recourse  by  appeal  to  the  Justices  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  this  Commonwealth  for  the  time  being, 
for  remedy;  who  are  hereby  appointed  and  authorized  to 
judge  in  such  case;  and,  agreeably  to  the  determination 
of  a  major  part  of  them,  to  declare  null  and  void  any  de- 
cree or  sentence  of  the  said  Visitors,  which,  upon  mature 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  205 

consideration,  they  may  deem  contrary  to  the  said  stat- 
utes, or  beyond  the  just  limits  of  their  power,  herein 
prescribed;  and  by  the  said  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Ju- 
dicial Court,  for  the  time  being,  shall  the  said  Board  of 
Visitors  at  all  times  be  subject  to  be  restrained  and  cor- 
rected in  the  undue  exercise  of  their  office." 

At  the  close  of  a  previous  article  (XX),  after  prescribing 
the  spirit  and  manner  in  which  certain  specific  duties 
shall  be  performed,  the  Visitors  are  enjoined  "in  general, 
to  see  that  our  true  intentions,  as  expressed  in  these  our 
Statutes,  be  faithfully  executed;  always  administering 
justice  impartially,  and  exercising  the  functions  of  their 
office  in  the  fear  of  God,  according  to  the  said  Statutes, 
the  Constitution  of  this  Seminary,  and  the  Laws  of  the 
Land." 

On  the  general  ground  that  the  Visitors  had  not  "ad- 
ministered justice  impartially"  in  the  decision  rendered, 
Professor  Smyth  took  his  appeal,  according  to  the  pro- 
vision of  Article  XXV,  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  Massa- 
chusetts. The  specifications  in  this  appeal  were  concerned 
entirely  with  the  behavior  and  action  of  Dr.  Eustis,  Secre- 
tary of  the  Board,  in  his  judicial  capacity;  charging  him 
with  partiality  and  prejudice,  and  with  having,  at  various 
times  and  places,  openly  prejudiced  the  case. 

Pending  the  course  of  this  appeal  Professor  Smyth  was 
entitled  to  resume  his  duties  as  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical 
History.  This  he  did,  and  the  affairs  of  the  Seminary  went 
on  without  interruption  during  the  ensuing  trial. 

A  bill  of  complaint  by  the  Trustees  was  also  submitted 
to  the  court,  based  on  the  refusal  of  the  Visitors  to  allow 
the  Trustees  to  appear  as  a  party  to  the  "trial."  It  was 
claimed  that  this  denial  of  the  rights  of  the  governing 


206  MY  GENERATION 

Board  was  a  usurpation  of  visitorial  power;  and  after  re- 
citing the  course  of  action  on  the  part  of  the  Visitors  fol- 
lowing this  refusal  and  leading  up  to  their  decision,  the 
Trustees  ask  the  court  for  "light"  as  to  the  principles  on 
which  they  are  to  administer  the  trust  committed  to  them, 
under  so  "contradictory  and  insensible"  a  verdict.  The 
statement  of  the  dilemma  in  which  the  Trustees  find  them- 
selves is  so  clear  that  I  give  it  in  full  in  a  footnote.1  The 

1  "Forty-first.  And  the  plaintiff  says  that  under  the  pretended  judgments, 
decrees,  and  conclusions  aforesaid,  as  recited  in  said  communications  from  the 
Visitors  to  the  plaintiff,  four  of  the  accused  professors  were  acquitted,  and  one 
of  the  accused  professors  was  convicted,  upon  precisely  the  same  charges,  sup- 
ported by  precisely  the  same  proofs  in  the  case  of  each  of  the  said  five  profes- 
sors; so  that  in  case  the  action  of  the  Visitors  constitutes  in  law  a  legal  visita- 
tion, if  the  said  judgments,  decrees,  and  conclusions  of  the  Visitors  are  correct 
and  proper  either  as  to  the  professors  acquitted  or  the  professor  convicted,  they 
are  manifestly  wrong  as  to  the  other  or  others,  and  the  same  are  contradictory 
and  insensible;  that  the  plaintiff,  as  charged  with  the  duty  of  administering 
the  trust  reposed  in  it,  is  left  without  light  as  to  which  judgments  are  correct, 
or  upon  what  principles  the  Visitors  intend  to  declare  that  the  trust  as  to  said 
foundations  should  be  administered;  and  that,  if  the  defendant  Smyth  has 
violated  his  duties  as  professor,  then  the  said  defendants,  Churchill,  Tucker, 
Harris,  and  Hincks  have  violated  their  duties  as  professors,  and  the  plaintiff 
ought  not  any  longer  to  allow  them  to  teach  as  professors  in  their  respective 
professorships,  and  ought  not  to  pay  them  any  salaries  out  of  the  funds  apper- 
taining to  such  professorships. 

"Forty-second.  And  the  plaintiff  further  says  that,  by  reason  of  the  matters 
and  things  herein  set  forth,  the  proceedings  of  the  Visitors,  and  their  pretended 
judgments,  decrees,  and  conclusions  herein  set  forth,  if  not  inquired  into  by  this 
Honorable  Court,  but  left  to  stand,  will  constitute  a  cloud  upon  the  title  of  the 
plaintiff  to  direct  and  manage  the  affairs  of  Phillips  Academy,  and  render  the 
plaintiff  uncertain  as  to  its  duties  in  the  premises,  and  will  greatly  embarrass  and 
impede  the  plaintiff  in  the  administration  of  the  trusts  as  aforesaid  confided  to 
it,  and  will  expose  the  plaintiff  to  a  multiplicity  of  suits,  according  as  it  takes 
the  one  view  or  the  other  of  its  legal  duty  in  the  premises;  and  that  it  is  imper- 
atively demanded  for  the  peace  of  Phillips  Academy,  and  specially  of  the  theo- 
logical Seminary  therein,  and  the  due  administration  of  the  various  charitable 
trusts  connected  therewith  and  held  by  the  plaintiff  as  trustee  as  aforesaid,  that 
the  questions  arising  out  of  the  matters  and  things  hereinbefore  set  forth  shall 
be  definitely  adjudicated  and  settled  by  the  decree  of  this  Honorable  Court  in 
the  premises. 

"  Wherefore,  the  plaintiff  prays  this  Honorable  Court  to  instruct  and  inform 
the  plaintiff  what  authority  and  jurisdiction,  if  any,  the  Visitors  have  over  the 
defendants  Smyth,  Churchill,  Tucker,  Harris,  and  Hincks,  or  either  of  them; 
whether  the  proceedings  of  the  Visitors,  and  their  judgments,  decrees,  and 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  207 

Trustees  further  ask  for  such  an  interpretation  of  the 
relative  authority  and  functions  of  the  two  Boards  as  may 
enable  the  administrative  and  visitatorial  parts  to  act  in 
harmony,  or  if  this  be  impracticable  that  the  relation 
between  the  two  be  modified  or  dissolved. 

The  counsel  on  either  side  employed  in  the  trial  before 
the  Visitors  were  retained  for  the  trial  before  the  Supreme 
Court,  with  their  positions  reversed,  and  in  behalf  of  the 
Trustees  Professor  Gray,  of  the  Harvard  Law  School, 
George  O.  Shattuck,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  and  Judge  Bishop, 
a  member  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  were  added.  As  the 
bill  of  the  Trustees  involved  a  thorough  investigation  of  the 
law  of  Visitation,  Judge  Bishop  went  to  England  to  make 
a  study  of  the  law  as  applied  to  English  institutions. 

When  the  appeal  of  Professor  Smyth  and  the  bill  of 
complaint  of  the  Trustees  came  before  the  Supreme  Court, 
it  was  necessary  that  two  special  hearings  should  be  as- 
signed by  the  court  —  one  to  secure  a  correct  and  com- 
plete record  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Visitors  in  connection 
with  the  "trial";  and  one  to  secure  the  requisite  testimony 
relative  to  the  charge  against  Dr.  Eustis,  Secretary  of  the 
Board,  of  having  through  private  and  public  utterances 
at  various  times  and  places  prejudiced  the  case.  Justice 
Allen  was  assigned  to  the  hearing  on  the  record  of  the  Visi- 
tors, and  ex-Governor  Robinson  was  assigned  to  take  testi- 
mony upon  the  charge  of  prejudgment  against  Dr.  Eustis. 

The  two  cases,  which  were  practically  merged  in  one, 

conclusions  herein  set  forth  and  referred  to,  or  any  of  the  same,  are  void;  and 
whether  by  reason  of  said  judgments,  decrees,  and  conclusions,  or  any  of  them, 
the  plaintiff  ought  to  refrain  from  paying  to  the  defendants  Smyth,  Churchill, 
Tucker,  Harris,  and  Hincks,  or  either  of  them,  the  income  of  the  funds  apper- 
taining to  the  professorships  respectively,  in  which  they  have  been  severally 
inducted;  and  whether  it  ought  to  refuse  the  said  defendants,  or  any  of  them, 
leave  to  teach  in  their  said  respective  professorships." 


208  MY  GENERATION 

were  nearly  three  years  before  the  court.  There  were 
several  points  at  which  a  decision  might  have  been  ren- 
dered, any  one  of  which  might  have  yielded  the  same 
result.  The  point  which  the  court  chose  was  the  refusal 
of  the  Visitors  to  allow  the  Trustees  to  become  a  party  to 
the  "trial."  This  refusal,  in  the  judgment  of  the  court, 
was  a  fatal  error  on  the  part  of  the  Visitors.  "We  are  of 
opinion,"  the  court  says,  "that  the  action  of  the  Vis- 
itors was  not  in  accordance  with  the  statutes  which  they 
were  trying  to  maintain  and  that  their  decree  must  be  set 
aside."  "It  is  inconceivable,"  the  court  had  previously 
said,  "that  a  Board  of  Visitors  intending  to  be  governed 
by  principles  of  justice  should  for  a  moment  think  of 
refusing  the  managing  body  a  hearing  in  a  case  where  the 
proceedings  are  directly  against  it  to  set  aside  its  action." 
The  opinion  was  written  by  Justice  Knowlton  and  con- 
curred in  by  Justices  Allen,  Holmes,  Morton,  Lathrop, 
and  Barker.  Chief  Justice  Field  dissented  on  the  ground 
that  the  decision  did  not  reach  the  merits  of  the  case.  "I 
refrain,"  he  said,  "from  expressing  any  opinion  on  the 
merits  for  the  reason  among  others  that  there  may  be  a 
new  trial  of  the  Complaint  by  the  Visitors,  and  another 
appeal  to  this  court." 

The  decision  was  related  more  closely  to  the  bill  of  the 
Trustees  than  to  the  appeal  of  Professor  Smyth,  but  the 
hearing  before  ex-Governor  Robinson  on  the  competency 
of  Dr.  Eustis  to  act  as  a  judge  established  the  fact  by  the 
mouth  of  many  witnesses  that  he  had  prejudged  the  case. 
The  effect  of  the  decision,  though  reached  through  the 
case  of  the  Trustees,  was  to  reinstate  Professor  Smyth  in 
his  chair,  as  also  to  put  certain  limitations  upon  the  power 
of  the  Visitors.  The  testimony  before  ex-Governor  Rob- 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  209 

inson  so  clearly  invalidated  the  judgment  of  Dr.  Eustis, 
that  it  would  have  served  to  change  the  vote  of  the  Vis- 
itors in  the  case  of  Professor  Smyth,  had  the  court  based 
its  opinion  on  that  issue.  By  the  Statutes  of  the  Associate 
Foundation,  in  case  of  a  tie  in  the  vote  of  the  Board  of 
Visitors,  the  vote  of  the  President  is  made  decisive.  The 
elimination  of  the  vote  of  Dr.  Eustis  would  have  meant 
the  acquittal  of  Professor  Smyth. 

The  dissenting  opinion  of  the  Chief  Justice  naturally 
suggested  a  reopening  of  the  complaint  before  the  Visitors. 
The  complainants  proceeded  to  carry  out  the  suggestion. 
During  the  time,  however,  in  which  the  case  had  been 
before  the  Supreme  Court  —  nearly  three  years  —  certain 
changes  had  taken  place  affecting  the  entire  situation.  Dr. 
Eustis  had  died  (1888)  and  Dr.  Dexter  (1890)  and  in  the 
same  year  Professor  Park.  Meanwhile  the  Board  of  Vis- 
itors had  become  practically  a  new  Board.  President 
Seelye  had  resigned  and  been  succeeded  by  Dr.  George 
Leon  Walker  as  President;  and  the  vacancy  occasioned 
by  the  death  of  Dr.  Eustis  had  been  filled  by  the  election 
of  Dr.  Alonzo  H.  Quint.  Mr.  Marshall  remained  on  the 
Board  and  was  made  Secretary.  It  had  become  apparent, 
as  the  proceedings  went  on  before  the  Supreme  Court, 
that  the  case  was  turning  more  and  more  away  from  its 
theological  aspects  toward  its  administrative  bearings. 
There  was  a  liability  that  the  case  might  be  carried  to  the 
Federal  Courts  upon  the  question  of  the  constitutionality 
of  the  visitorial  system.  Meanwhile  the  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  personnel  of  the  Board  of  Visitors 
placed  the  determining  power  in  the  hands  of  the  new 
members,  Dr.  George  Leon  Walker,  the  President,  and 
Dr.  Alonzo  H.  Quint.  In  view  of  these  two  facts,  it  was 


210  MY  GENERATION 

proposed  by  some  of  the  supporters  of  the  Seminary, 
including  at  first  two  or  three  of  the  Trustees,  that  it 
might  be  well  to  withdraw  the  case  from  the  Supreme 
Court  and  restore  it  to  its  original  theological  status,  by 
resubmitting  it  to  the  reconstituted  Board  of  Visitors.  I 
find  by  reference  to  correspondence,  that  this  proposal 
was  seriously  entertained  by  some  who  were  directly  con- 
cerned with  the  affairs  of  the  Seminary.  But  upon  con- 
sultation this  proposal  was  dropped.  It  was  seen  to  be 
essential  that  there  should  be  a  decision  upon  the  admin- 
istrative as  well  as  upon  the  theological  points  at  issue. 
Such  a  decision  could  come  only  from  the  Supreme  Court. 
It  was  also  seen  that  it  would  be  difficult,  even  under 
general  agreement,  to  bring  the  case  back  again  into  the 
unquestioned  jurisdiction  of  the  Visitors.  And  still  further, 
the  move  might  reopen  all  the  old  sources  of  contention; 
and  in  the  renewed  confusion  allow  some  compromising 
decision  —  as,  for  example,  a  vote  of  acquittal  accom- 
panied by  admonition.  It  was  therefore  decided  with 
practical  unanimity  that  the  case  should  go  on,  with  the 
result  already  stated. 

After  the  decision  was  rendered  it  was  uncertain  what 
course  the  complainants  would  take.  The  dissenting  opin- 
ion of  the  Chief  Justice  had  opened  the  way,  should  they 
choose  to  use  it,  for  a  renewal  of  their  complaint.  The 
situation,  however,  as  has  been  noted,  had  changed  in 
some  important  respects.  I  recall  the  more  important. 
There  had  been  the  change  in  the  composition  of  the 
Board  of  Visitors.  Dr.  Dexter,  the  chief  complainant,  had 
died.  Professor  Park,  to  whom  the  complainants  had 
turned  for  advice,  had  also  died.  With  the  accession  of  Dr. 
Dunning  to  the  editorship  of  the  "Congregationalist,"  the 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  211 

burden  of  the  attack  upon  Andover  had  been  shifted  to 
the  columns  of  the  "Advance."  These  changes  represented 
apparent  losses.  On  the  other  hand,  the  original  contro- 
versy had  been  carried  on  unremittingly  in  the  rooms 
and  upon  the  platform  of  the  American  Board.  It  was  a 
significant  fact  that  when  the  complaint  was  actually 
renewed,  and  an  early  date  for  the  hearing  had  been  ap- 
pointed, the  complainants  requested  a  postponement 
until  after  the  fall  meeting  of  the  American  Board. 

The  uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  action  of  the  com- 
plainants was  set  at  rest  by  notice  served  July  11  upon 
the  Trustees  and  Professor  Smyth  that  the  "Amended 
Complaint"  would  be  renewed  by  the  remaining  com- 
plainants, Drs.  Wellman  and  Lanphear,  and  that  a  hear- 
ing had  been  appointed  for  September  1  at  Andover.  It 
was  difficult  to  know  just  how  much  this  meant.  There 
was  no  wish  to  distrust  or  embarrass  the  new  Board  of 
Visitors  through  irritating  preliminaries  on  the  part  of 
the  defendants.  Such,  for  example,  might  have  been  the 
proposal,  very  seriously  entertained,  that  the  four  pro- 
fessors who  had  been  acquitted  should  petition  the  Visitors 
that  they  be  included  in  the  renewed  complaint.  Their 
position  had  been  very  embarrassing.  Had  the  dismissal 
of  Professor  Smyth  resulted  in  his  retirement,  they  would 
have  resigned.  Should  his  dismissal  on  the  renewed  charges 
be  made  final,  they  would  resign.  But  their  proposed  re- 
entrance  into  the  case  introduced  such  complications  that 
it  was  decided  to  put  by  the  proposal.  It  was,  however, 
necessary  to  take  account  of  the  decision  by  the  court, 
modifying  the  powers  of  the  Visitors  and  their  method  of 
procedure,  and  to  take  such  steps  as  might  insure  a  suit- 
able ground  of  appeal  should  it  be  necessary  for  either 


212  MY  GENERATION 

the  Trustees  or  Professor  Smyth  to  resort  again  to  the 
court.  The  reply  of  the  defendants  took  due  account  of 
these  precautions;  and  Professor  Smyth  made  in  addition 
a  brief  but  frank  reply  covering  the  theological  charges 
involved.  The  hearing  was  held  as  appointed  on  Septem- 
ber 1,  and  at  its  close  was  adjourned  for  one  week.  At 
that  time  the  Visitors  made  their  deliverance,  covering 
in  somewhat  minute  detail  their  interpretation  of  the 
decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  as  affecting  their  Visito- 
rial  powers,  and  concluding  with  the  statement  of  their 
reasons  for  the  decision  which  they  reached  regarding  the 
disposition  of  the  case  against  Professor  Smyth. 

It  must  be  remembered  [they  say]  that  this  amended  com- 
plaint was  dated  November  8,  1886,  and  that  the  burden  of 
such  complaint  claimed  that  the  respondent  held  and  main- 
tained certain  alleged  errors  nearly  six  years  ago.  An  adverse 
decision  would  now  merely  assert  that  to  have  been  a  fact.  The 
present  condition  of  affairs  is  not  involved  in  the  specific  ques- 
tion at  issue.  .  .  . 

It  has  a  moral  bearing,  furthermore,  that  upon  the  former 
hearing,  upon  verbally  the  same  complaint  then  made  against 
five  professors  alike,  and  upon  the  same  evidence  in  all  the  cases, 
four  of  the  accused  were  acquitted,  and  one  (the  present  re- 
spondent) was  condemned.  That  this  infelicity  arose  from  a 
conjunction  of  circumstances  within  the  Board  itself  does  not 
affect  the  bearing  of  the  fact.  The  conditions  of  that  result  have 
never  been  generally  understood,  and  a  necessary  and  inevitable 
prejudice  was  awakened  against  the  equity  and  the  reasonableness 
of  the  adjudication  made.  .  .  . 

To  some  extent  the  present  complaint  operates  as  a  barrier 
to  that  more  direct  and  current  supervision  of  the  affairs  of 
the  Seminary  as  a  whole,  which  has  been  indicated  as  a  duty 
recognized  by  the  Visitatorial  Board,  and  especially  to  those 
amicable  methods  which  should  take  precedent  of  all  others. 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  213 

In  the  peculiar  condition,  therefore,  where  this  protracted 
case  is  now  found,  and  in  its  evident  inadequacy  to  advance  the 
interests  of  the  Seminary,  and  in  the  unlikeliness  that  this 
isolated  case  would  be  productive  of  good  by  further  proceed- 
ings, and  in  the  belief  that  the  Visitors  can  better  fulfill  their 
responsibilities  by  other  methods  within  their  power,  this  Board 
decides  —  without  thereby  expressing  any  opinion  upon  the 
merits  of  the  case  —  that  the  amended  complaint  now  pending 
against  Egbert  C.  Smyth,  Brown  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical 
History,  be  dismissed. 

Thus  ended  finally  the  "Andover  Case"  after  a  course 
of  six  years,  preceded  by  two  years  of  open  controversy. 
Following  the  movement  of  the  case,  we  have  these  suc- 
cessive steps  —  the  formal  complaint  before  the  Board 
of  Visitors  against  five  professors  in  the  Seminary  on  the 
general  charge  of  heresy;  the  amended  complaint,  becom- 
ing more  distinctly  according  to  the  declared  purpose  of 
the  complainants,  an  indictment  for  breach  of  trust, 
though  held  formally  to  the  charge  of  heterodoxy;  the 
trial  before  the  Visitors;  the  unequal  verdict  which  dis- 
possessed one  professor  of  his  chair,  leaving  the  other  pro- 
fessors undisturbed;  the  transfer  of  the  case  to  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts,  through  the  appeal  of  the  dis- 
possessed professor  on  the  ground  of  the  prejudgment  of 
the  case  by  one  of  the  Visitors,  and  through  a  bill  in  equity 
brought  by  the  Trustees  on  the  ground  of  having  been 
denied  a  place  by  the  Visitors  as  a  party  to  the  trial;  the 
discussion  before  the  court  of  the  relative  authority  and 
powers  of  the  governing  and  Visitatorial  boards;  the  de- 
cision of  the  court  declaring  the  judgment  and  decree  of 
the  Visitors  void  on  account  of  their  violation  of  the 
Statutes  defining  their  powers;  the  reopening  of  the  case 
before  the  Visitors  by  the  remaining  original  complainants 


214  MY  GENERATION 

through  the  "Amended  Complaint";  the  reversal  of  the 
decision  made  by  the  Board  in  the  earlier  trial,  and  the 
formal  dismissal  of  the  case. 

The  results  of  this  protracted  controversy  and  litigation 
cannot  be  as  succinctly  stated,  but  they  were  at  certain 
essential  points  clear  and  impressive. 

Owing  to  the  circumstances  attending  the  development 
of  the  trial,  peculiar  interest  attached  to  the  personal  re- 
sult. I  have  said  that  Professor  Smyth  was  the  outstand- 
ing figure.  He  was  such  by  rightful  distinction,  by  virtue 
of  what  I  may  term  his  personal  and  professional  corre- 
spondence to  the  issue  involved.  Professor  Smyth  had  been 
reckoned  a  conservative  rather  than  a  liberal,  according 
to  the  way  men  were  classified  before  the  opening  of  the 
Andover  controversy.  I  am  not  sure  that  he  would  have 
become  so  aggressively  advanced  on  any  of  the  other 
questions  which  were  opening  the  way  into  progressive 
orthodoxy.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would  not  have  been 
fitted  by  temperament  or  by  training  for  leadership  in  the 
distinctly  scientific  movements  in  some  parts  of  the  theo- 
logical world.  But  for  the  truth  underlying  the  Andover 
"heresy,"  which,  as  he  believed,  touched  the  very  heart 
of  Christianity,  he  was  fitted  both  by  his  sympathies  and 
by  his  studies  to  act  as  its  defender  and  advocate.  He  was 
a  wide  and  profound  student  of  Christian  history,  espe- 
cially of  the  history  of  Christian  doctrine.  When  calling 
in  question  some  of  Dr.  Dexter's  claims  for  certain  creeds 
as  oecumenical,  he  was  able  to  say  with  unimpeachable 
authority  —  "  they  are  not  oecumenical,  I  know  these  all 
by  heart."  He  was  likewise  profoundly  sensitive  to  the 
humanity  of  Christianity.  Here  was  the  secret  of  his  zeal 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  215 

for  missions.  As  a  speaker  on  the  platform  of  the  Ameri- 
can Board  he  was  no  longer  the  Church  historian,  but  a 
valiant  and  moving  pleader  for  the  rights  of  all  men  in 
the  Christian  heritage  and  the  Christian  hope. 

As  the  circumstance  of  the  trial  detached  him  from  his 
colleagues,  he  carried  the  distinction  which  this  detach- 
ment conferred  upon  him  with  dignity,  courage,  and  gen- 
uine simplicity.  His  legal  opponents  were  impressed  by 
his  behavior  and  carriage.  He  did  not  ask  for  sympathy  or 
invite  it.  He  stood  four-square  against  the  adverse  cir- 
cumstances creating  his  isolation,  which  in  spite  of  the 
oneness  of  all  concerned  in  the  struggle  had  its  painful 
realities.  His  patient  strength  lay  in  the  satisfactions  of 
duty,  and  in  the  undaunted  assurance  of  the  ultimate 
success  of  his  contention.  There  was  not  a  little  of  the 
spirit  of  Luther  in  the  concluding  words  of  his  defense: 
"What  I  maintain  and  where  I  abide  in  good  conscience 
is  this :  I  have  not  violated  my  obligations  under  the  Creed, 
even  upon  a  close  and  technical  construction  of  them. 
And  if,  as  I  also  maintain,  the  Creed  is  a  summary  of 
principles  which  are  to  be  applied  and  developed  from 
generation  to  generation,  I  have  done  something  far 
better  and  more  faithful  than  a  literal  repetition  of  them. 
I  have  used  them,  and  with  them  have  confronted  present 
great  and  important  questions  of  religious  thought  and 
life."  The  vindication  of  the  man  whose  whole  course  of 
action  justified  such  words  as  these,  was  not  to  be  over- 
looked in  any  fair  estimate  of  the  greater  results  of  the 
trial.  It  was  no  mere  sentiment  which  led  the  public  to 
regard  the  culmination  of  the  trial,  in  the  restoration  of 
Professor  Smyth  to  his  professorial  standing  in  the  Sem- 
inary, as  of  the  nature  of  a  personal  triumph. 


216  MY  GENERATION 

An  uncalculated,  but  salutary  result  of  the  trial  was 
its  exposure  of  the  folly  of  the  over-use  of  theological 
safeguards.  The  Andover  Foundation  was  guarded  by  an 
elaborate  creed,  which  in  turn  was  guarded  by  a  carefully 
devised  system  of  visitation.  The  Creed  was  calculated, 
by  reason  of  its  excessive  specifications,  to  confuse  the 
mind  as  to  its  essential  purpose  and  as  to  its  actual  tend- 
ency. Even  so  fundamentally  honest  and  so  acute  a  mind 
as  that  of  Judge  Hoar  failed  to  discern  its  actual  bearings. 
It  remained  for  Professor  Smyth  to  point  out  by  a  careful 
historical  analysis  the  real  direction  of  the  Creed;  to  show 
that  it  had  a  forward,  not  a  backward,  look,  and  that  its 
restrictions  were  set  up  to  guard  against  retreat,  not 
against  advance.  In  like  manner  the  visitorial  system  was 
so  devised  as  to  create  unwittingly  the  very  liability  to 
inconsistency  and  injustice  which  has  been  so  deplorably 
in  evidence.  The  Board  of  Visitors  which  dismissed  the 
case  against  Professor  Smyth,  charitably  characterize  the 
injustice  of  the  action  of  their  predecessors  as  an  "in- 
felicity (which)  arose  from  a  conjunction  of  circumstances 
within  the  Board  itself."  It  is  due  to  the  Founders  to  note 
their  wisdom  in  the  provision  they  made  to  correct  any 
miscarriage  of  justice  on  the  part  of  the  Visitors.  They 
put  the  Visitors  within  easy  reach  of  the  Supreme  Court. 
They  had  the  sagacity  to  see  that  men  of  religious  char- 
acter and  purpose  were  not  infallible  in  the  exercise  of 
justice;  that  in  fact  religious  zeal  might  divert  their  steps 
from  the  straight  and  narrow  path  of  justice.  The  Sem- 
inary and  the  churches  are  indebted  to  the  Supreme  Court 
of  Massachusetts  for  its  clear  apprehension  of  the  claims 
of  justice  in  their  decision  in  the  Andover  case,  although 
it  kept  as  far  away  as  possible  from  the  theological  issues 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  217 

involved.  The  decision  would  have  been  still  more  satis- 
factory had  it  entered  more  fully  into  the  relations  be- 
tween the  two  boards,  though  as  I  have  said  in  the  sec- 
tion of  this  chapter  bearing  on  the  proposed  action  of 
the  Trustees  in  the  establishment  of  a  new  chair  free 
from  visitorial  jurisdiction,  it  was  only  in  this  way  that 
real  institutional  freedom  could  have  been  gained.  It 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  have  made  the  visitorial 
system  a  subordinate,  rather  than  as  it  is  now,  the  dom- 
inating part  of  the  Foundation.  Andover  has  been  some- 
what relieved  of  the  excessive  burden  of  its  safeguards,  but 
it  is  still  too  heavily  weighted  with  its  defensive  and 
offensive  armor  to  act  in  possible  contingencies  in  the  full 
freedom  of  its  strength. 

The  result  which  was  most  definitely  secured,  through 
the  protracted  trial  —  the  result,  that  is,  which  was  actually 
reached,  and  which  could  only  have  been  reached  through 
conflict,  was  a  reasonable  assurance  of  theological  freedom. 
This  result  was  the  answer  to  those  who  deprecated  the 
fight  and  would  have  been  willing  to  divert  the  issue.  It 
represented  something  achieved,  something  won.  The  fact 
that  it  was  reached  through  a  reversal  of  judgment  made 
the  victory  more  complete.  Between  the  original  judgment 
and  its  reversal,  public  sentiment  had  grown  into  an 
almost  unanimous  approval  of  the  freedom  secured.  Very 
few  feared  any  danger  from  it.  The  long  struggle  had 
familiarized  the  public  mind  with  the  spirit  and  intent  of 
the  larger  freedom.  The  danger  from  acquired  freedom  is 
indeed  quite  different  from  the  danger  of  inherited  free- 
dom. It  is  more  obvious,  but  really  less  to  be  feared.  The 
utmost  danger  from  acquired  freedom  lies  in  the  possible 
tendency  to  over-use  it.  The  danger  from  inherited  freedom 


218  MY  GENERATION 

is  not  license  but  stagnation.  This  danger  had  begun  to 
mark  the  freedom  of  the  New  England  churches  of  the 
Puritan  faith.  The  New  England  theology  had  begun  to 
stagnate.  Its  great  traditions  were  no  longer  urging  it 
forward,  and  it  was  not  sensitive  to  the  stirrings  of  the 
new  life  from  without.  By  contrast,  any  theological  free- 
dom like  that  won  in  the  Andover  fight  was  safe.  It  was  a 
freedom  to  be  respected,  and  trusted.  A  very  significant 
change  in  this  respect  was  indicated  in  the  final  decree  of 
the  Visitors,  in  their  reference  to  subscription  to  the  Creed. 
All  suspicion  and  distrust  had  now  passed  away.  "Since 
the  date  of  the  Amended  Complaint,"  they  say,  "that 
person  [Professor  Smyth]  has  again  subscribed  to  the 
creed  of  the  Seminary  as  required  by  the  Statutes;  a 
creed  which  this  learned  and  Christian  gentleman  must 
be  supposed  to  have  taken  intelligently."  "Intelligently," 
not  literally,  not  evasively,  but  in  consistency  with  his 
well-known  views,  and  in  accordance  with  his  declared 
understanding  of  the  Creed  itself.  Here  at  last  is  the  full 
recognition  of  the  right  of  personal  interpretation  in  the 
matter  of  creed  subscription.  The  Andover  conflict 
brought  to  those  who  won  the  rights  which  they  de- 
fended, and  through  them  to  all  who  set  a  proper  value 
upon  theological  freedom,  the  possession  of  a  responsible 
and  respected  freedom.  "Suffice  it  to  say,"  is  the  con- 
clusion of  an  editorial  writer  in  the  secular  press  who  had 
carefully  watched  the  whole  course  of  the  conflict,  "that 
there  seems  to  be  no  longer  any  question  that  Progressive 
Orthodoxy  is  orthodox;  and  that  its  progress  is  in  the 
direction  of  bringing,  by  methods  adapted  to  the  con- 
ditions of  to-day,  to  bear  upon  the  needs  of  to-day,  that 
gospel  which  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever." 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  219 

It  is  much  to  say  of  the  result  of  the  Andover  trial  that 
it  secured  a  larger  theological  freedom  for  the  Seminary  — 
its  professors  and  students  and  graduates  —  and  also  for 
theological  education  everywhere  and  for  the  ministry  at 
large;  but  it  is  far  more  to  be  able  to  say,  as  I  think  it  can 
truthfully  be  said,  that  the  Andover  controversy,  of  which 
the  trial  was  the  culmination,  contributed  its  part  toward 
that  vastly  greater  end  of  theological  freedom,  namely 
the  freedom  of  Christianity.  Much  as  it  means  for  men  to 
be  free  in  their  holding  of  the  Christian  faith,  it  is  in- 
finitely more  that  the  faith  itself  shall  be  kept  free,  or  if 
in  any  wise  bound,  shall  be  set  free.  The  great  struggle 
within  the  field  of  doctrine  has  always  been  to  break  the 
hold  of  fettering  and  restrictive  dogmas.  These  dogmas 
have  been  the  obstructive  forces  in  the  way  of  a  working 
Christianity,  —  the  dogma  of  a  "particular"  election,  the 
dogma  of  a  limited  atonement,  and,  last,  the  dogma  of  a 
restricted  opportunity.  It  was  a  sad  comment  on  the 
assumed  and  even  boasted  freedom  of  the  New  England 
theology,  of  which  Andover  was  a  chief  exponent,  that  a 
theology  which  had  won  the  conflict  for  a  universal  atone- 
ment should  surrender  to  the  dogma  of  a  restricted  Chris- 
tian opportunity;  and  that  the  missionary  organization 
called  into  being  to  carry  out  the  motive  of  a  universal 
atonement,  should  shift  its  motive  of  action  to  this  same 
dogma  of  a  restricted  Christian  opportunity.  It  was  this 
arrested  development  and  perverted  application  of  an 
otherwise  advanced  theology,  which  made  the  Andover 
contest  in  the  courts,  and  the  Andover  contention  in  the 
American  Board,  one  and  the  same  conflict.  And  the  re- 
sult? Who  now  holds  in  good  faith  the  doctrine  of  a  uni- 
versal atonement,  compelled  at  the  same  time  to  limit 


220  MY  GENERATION 

its  application  to  the  merest  fraction  of  the  human  race? 
Who  now  holds  a  working  interest  in  missions,  compelled 
at  the  same  time  to  find  the  motive  to  missions  in  the 
arbitrary  limitation  of  the  Christian  opportunity?  The 
conception  of  a  future  opportunity  for  those  who  have 
not  known  or  understood  the  Christ,  denounced  as  a  fatal 
heresy,  derided  as  a  speculation,  to  be  allowed  if  at  all 
only  as  a  hope,  was  given  its  true  place  in  the  larger  inter- 
pretation of  Christianity.  It  is  no  longer  merely  a  possible 
inference,  it  is  seen  to  inhere  in  the  spirit  and  intent  of 
the  Christian  faith;  a  faith  which  is  constantly  extending 
its  boundaries  and  becoming  more  and  more  capable  of 
including  within  its  range  the  possibilities  of  the  future 
world;  a  faith  which  follows  with  unfaltering  step  the 
path  of  every  man  on  his  way  to  his  final  destiny.  This 
progress  of  Christian  faith  can  be  measured  not  simply  by 
the  enlargement  of  its  range,  but  still  more  by  the  quick- 
ening of  its  hope  into  confident  expectation,  that  expecta- 
tion which  glows  in  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul.  The  greatest 
advance  of  Christian  doctrine  within  the  generation  has 
been  in  its  humanity.  The  humanizing  process  has  been 
at  work  in  many  ways,  but  in  all  those  ways  that  are  most 
accessible  and  most  easily  recognized,  it  has  been  stimu- 
lated by  that  larger  hope  for  humanity  which  is  the  out- 
come and  expression  of  the  newly  acquired  freedom  of 
Christianity.  As  the  meaning  of  this  enlarged  freedom  is 
more  clearly  understood,  it  is  reasonable  to  assume  that 
the  inspiration  to  be  derived  from  it  will  act  with  increas- 
ing force  upon  the  Church.  Under  the  intense  individual- 
ism of  the  Protestant  faith,  the  churches  of  that  faith 
have  never  caught  the  large  vision,  or  felt  the  deep  sense 
of  humanity.  We,  who  profess  that  faith,  have  hardly 


THE  ANDOVER  PERIOD  221 

recognized,  certainly  we  have  not  felt,  the  solidarity  of 
the  race.  But  the  Christianity  of  the  New  Testament  and 
of  the  early  Church  was  conceived  and  announced  in 
universal  terms.  Nothing  has  yet  been  accomplished,  tak- 
ing full  account  of  the  glorious  work  of  the  past  in  some 
transformations  of  life  among  some  peoples,  nor  is  any- 
thing in  immediate  prospect,  which  can  be  accepted  as 
satisfying  the  spirit,  or  the  purpose,  or  the  capacity,  or 
the  prophecy  of  Christianity.  Is  there  a  larger  work  in 
human  redemption  going  on  out  of  sight,  but  not  out  of 
the  reach  of  faith?  *  The  Christian  heart,  and  the  Christian 
mind,  and  more  and  more  the  Christian  conscience  have 
contended  for  the  right  to  believe  in  this  unlimited  work 
of  Christ.  "We  must  cast  ourselves,"  said  one  of  the 
earlier  converts  to  Christianity  —  "we  must  cast  ourselves 
into  the  greatness  of  Christ."  The  conviction  which  found 
such  courageous  expression  in  the  saying  of  this  early 
convert  has  grown,  all  too  slowly,  but  irresistibly,  upon  the 
Christian  Church.  Every  period  of  greatest  advance  has 
been  marked  by  some  sincere  attempt  to  realize  its  mean- 
ing. I  think  that  it  may  be  claimed  for  the  Andover  Con- 
tention, that  it  was  a  sincere  attempt,  successful  within 
the  limits  of  its  influence,  to  embolden  Christian  believers 
to  cast  themselves  more  completely  into  "the  greatness" 
of  Christianity,  and  to  adjust  their  Christian  activities 
and  expectations  to  this  enlargement  of  their  faith. 

1  No  one  can  overlook  the  fact  that  the  War  is  giving  a  reality  and  pertinency 
to  this  question  which  could  hardly  have  been  anticipated  when  it  was  under 
theological  discussion.  It  is  now  a  human  question.  The  War  has  brought  the 
two  worlds  very  near  to  one  another  in  the  minds  of  multitudes,  even  in  Chris- 
tian homes,  who  had  been  living  in  one  world;  and  the  constantly  increasing 
volume  of  premature  deaths  makes  its  direct  and  irresistible  appeal  to  Christian 
faith.  W.  J.  T.  1918. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH 

1892 

A  Year  of  Painful  Decisions 

The  year  1892  was  the  most  personal  year  in  my  pro- 
fessional life.  The  changes  which  it  brought  were  sensitive 
and  far  reaching,  vitally  affecting  the  home,  and  all  those 
intimate  associations  in  which  one's  life  takes  root.  The 
essential  change  was  a  sharp  and  sudden  turn  in  my  career, 
producing  an  immediate  personal  effect  like  that  of  the 
shift  of  a  train  on  taking  a  double  curve  at  speed. 

Early  in  the  month  of  February  I  went  to  Hanover, 
New  Hampshire,  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  Dartmouth 
Trustees.  At  that  meeting  President  Bartlett,  then  in  his 
seventy-fifth  year,  resigned,  the  resignation  to  take  effect 
at  the  close  of  the  academic  year,  and  I  was  at  once  elected 
to  the  presidency.  The  election  took  place  without  pre- 
vious consultation  with  me,  and  in  the  brief  discussion 
which  preceded  it,  against  my  earnest  protest.  I  urged 
that  the  conditions  at  Andover  did  not  warrant  my  with- 
drawal. My  colleagues  urged  in  turn  that,  in  view  of  the 
decision  of  the  court  in  the  Andover  case,  conditions  at 
Dartmouth  should  have  first  consideration,  and  proceeded 
to  a  ballot.  When  the  vote  was  announced,  I  formally 
declined  the  election,  but  my  colleagues  insisted  that  in 
the  circumstances  their  action  was  justified,  and  at  least 
called  for  a  suspension  of  judgment  on  my  part.  Their 
argument  was  direct  and  personal.  "You  are  a  trustee  of 
fifteen  years'  standing;  you  are  an  alumnus  of  the  College 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         223 

and  specially  identified  with  the  alumni  movement  now 
going  into  effect,  upon  the  success  of  which  the  immediate 
future  of  the  College  so  largely  depends.  Your  election  is 
quite  a  different  matter  in  present  circumstances  from  the 
election  of  an  outsider.  Your  declination  will  have  a  dif- 
ferent effect  upon  the  College  from  the  declination  of  an 
outsider.  The  fair  obligation  rests  upon  you  to  at  least  give 
the  matter  more  thought  than  a  peremptory  answer  will 
allow.  Our  action  has  been  well  considered;  you  should  not 
act  upon  your  immediate  impulses  or  even  convictions." 

Naturally  the  situation  grew  more  and  more  embarrass- 
ing under  discussion.  Had  the  Andover  case  been  still  in 
litigation,  I  could  not  honorably  have  consented  even  to 
this  claim  for  time;  but  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  Massachusetts  having  virtually  closed  the  case,  though 
the  Visitors  had  not  dismissed  it,  I  could  not  altogether 
deny  its  justice.  But  as  the  allowance  of  the  claim  would 
bring  the  whole  situation  before  the  public  I  foresaw  an 
increasing  embarrassment.  It  would  naturally  be  assumed, 
as  I  was  a  trustee  and  present  at  the  meeting  of  the  Board 
when  I  was  elected,  that  I  was  consenting  to  the  election 
and  would  accept  it.  Still  nothing  remained,  having  ad- 
mitted the  reasonableness  of  the  claim  of  the  Trustees, 
but  to  discount  as  far  as  possible  the  publicity  of  the  sit- 
uation, and  take  the  question  back  with  me  to  Andover,- 
and  submit  it  fully  to  that  court  of  last  resort,  one's  own 
judgment  and  conscience. 

Of  the  many  letters  which  came  to  me  after  my  return, 
a  few  were  of  a  general  character  giving  an  estimate  by 
the  writers  of  the  relative  honor  and  dignity  of  the  two 
positions.  These  letters  were  for  the  most  part  quite  ir- 
relevant. I  had  little  interest  in  the  question  of  relative 


224  MY  GENERATION 

honor  or  dignity.  Each  position  was  of  so  high  and  serious 
intent  as  to  subordinate  all  thought  of  personal  advantage 
to  the  one  really  pertinent  question  of  effective  service. 
Other  letters  of  a  very  different  sort  revealed  the  earnest- 
ness and  genuine  concern  of  the  writers  for  the  College  or 
the  Seminary,  or  for  the  things  which  each  represented 
to  them.  Such  were  the  letters  from  the  Dartmouth 
Faculty  and  from  many  of  the  alumni,  in  which  one  could 
read  at  least  between  the  lines  the  hopes  and  fears,  the 
restraint  of  enthusiasm  or  of  disappointment  in  view  of 
the  uncertainty  of  the  result.  And  such  especially  were 
some  of  the  letters  from  stanch  and  loyal  friends  of  the 
Seminary,  who  had  patiently  borne  the  years  of  dis- 
heartening controversy,  and  were  now  jealous  of  any 
interference  with  the  promise  of  its  enlarged  activities. 
Letters  of  this  kind  naturally  intensified  one's  feelings, 
without  helping  in  any  corresponding  degree  to  clear  one's 
judgment.  In  my  state  of  mind,  the  most  helpful  words 
were  those  of  persons  who  seemed  to  me  to  be  able  to 
judge  with  fairness  and  discrimination  in  regard  to  my 
fitness  for  the  respective  positions  before  me.  I  found  that 
the  question  of  fitness  took  precedence  more  and  more  of 
other  questions.  I  do  not  know  that  I  had  ever  lacked  the 
courage  to  enter  upon  the  new  and  untried.  In  fact  the 
spirit  of  venture  was  seldom  dormant.  But  in  so  grave  a 
matter  as  that  now  at  issue,  I  felt  that  a  new  responsibility 
should  not  be  assumed  in  the  adventurous  spirit.  My 
earlier  and  later  training  had  been  for  professional  not 
academic  studies,  and  though  I  did  not  shrink  from 
administrative  work,  or  underestimate  its  relative  value 
(much  higher  than  that  of  most  of  my  friends),  I  had  yet 
to  assure  myself  of  a  sufficiently  evident  or  conscious  fit- 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    225 

ness  for  it  to  compensate  for  the  manifest  loss  of  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  acquired  power.  Whatever  power  of 
initiative  I  had,  had  gone  out  in  a  given  direction.  Was  it 
wise  to  arrest  it,  apparently  well  under  way  but  so  far  from 
its  goal?  As  an  old  classmate  wrote  me  in  Biblical  figure  — 
"God  has  given  you  your  vision.  You  have  got  the  tab- 
ernacle under  way.  Turn  your  back  on  it,  and  it  will  neces- 
sitate the  evolution  of  another  man."  Or  as  the  one  of 
my  colleagues,  with  whom  I  had  the  most  in  common 
in  intellectual  outlook,  put  it  —  "To  make  the  proposed 
change  would  be  the  transfer  of  yourself  out  of  a  work  for 
which  you  are  made  by  special  creation,  into  that  to  which 
at  best  you  would  be  adapted  by  forcing."  While  I  recog- 
nized a  certain  exaggeration  in  the  terms  in  which  these 
views  were  expressed,  I  could  not  deny  what  was  on  the 
whole  the  real  fact  as  it  then  appeared,  namely,  that  the 
commitment  to  a  specialized  work  had  given  it  such 
rights  and  advantages  as  to  make  it  of  determinative 
importance.  In  the  sense  of  the  obligation  which  had  been 
thus  created,  I  wrote  the  following  letter  to  the  Trustees 
of  Dartmouth  College: 

To  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College: 

Gentlemen:  The  circumstances,  in  which  you  put  upon  me 
the  very  high  honor  and  duty  of  serving  the  College  as  President, 
have  greatly  increased  the  responsibility  attending  my  present 
decision.  You  will  recall  the  strenuous  endeavor  which  I  made 
to  anticipate  and  arrest  your  action,  upon  the  first  intimation 
of  it,  owing  to  my  conviction  that  my  future  work  was  already 
determined.  The  fact,  however,  that  you  thought  it  wise,  in  view 
of  the  interests  of  the  College,  to  overrule  my  judgment,  taken  in 
connection  with  the  expressed  feeling  of  a  large  number  of  the 
Faculty  and  Alumni,  have  led  me  to  reexamine  my  position 
with  the  utmost  seriousness.  I  have  accepted  in  its  full  signifi- 


226  MY  GENERATION 

cance  the  private  statement  of  one  of  the  Board  that  "  this  con- 
sensus of  judgment  and  feeling  has  created  a  new  condition." 
It  has  been  to  me,  I  can  assure  you,  a  far  more  serious  matter 
to  attempt  to  determine  my  duty  in  the  light  of  your  action  and 
of  the  opinions  of  others,  than  in  the  light  simply  of  my  own 
convictions.  Still  after  the  most  deliberate  and  anxious  thought, 
I  am  constrained  to  abide  by  the  conviction  which  I  first  de- 
clared to  you,  and  to  return  to  you  the  election  to  the  Presidency 
of  the  College. 

It  is  due  to  you  and  to  those  who  are  vitally  concerned  in  this 
decision,  that  I  should  state  briefly  but  clearly  the  reasons 
which  have  led  to  it.  The  fact  that  these  reasons  center  in  my 
personal  thought  and  circumstance  may  make  them  less  con- 
vincing to  you,  while  more  imperative  to  me. 

Twelve  years  ago  I  gave  up  the  pastorate  to  enter  upon  the 
work  of  training  men  for  the  ministry.  The  change  was  not 
made  without  a  struggle,  but  it  was  made  intelligently,  and  with 
the  determination  to  take  part  with  those  who  were  seeking  to 
broaden  and  adjust  the  Christian  Church  to  its  new  relations  to 
society  and  the  world.  There  were  signs  at  the  time  that  this  ex- 
pansion and  adjustment  would  be  accompanied  by  much  discus- 
sion, perhaps  by  dissensions.  The  signs  were  soon  verified.  The 
past  years  have  been  years  of  theological  and  religious  contro- 
versy. I  have  no  doubt  that  more  rapid  progress  has  been  made 
in  this  way  than  could  have  been  made  by  any  other  method. 

But  the  end  of  controversy,  when  it  is  reached,  is  not  rest; 
it  is  not  freedom  even;  it  is  opportunity.  The  chief  object 
which,  with  others,  I  cherished  at  the  beginning,  has  not  been 
accomplished;  it  has  simply  been  made  possible.  It  remains  for 
those  who  contended  for  freedom  to  apply  the  larger  Christian- 
ity thus  gained  to  the  great  social  needs  to  which  it  is  fitted; 
and  especially  to  lead  out  young  men  who  are  entering  the  min- 
istry, who  are  for  this  very  reason  entering  the  ministry,  into 
those  wide  and  influential  relations  in  which  a  Christian  min- 
ister may  now  stand  toward  society. 

One  distinct  outcome  of  recent  theological  movements,  the 
one  outcome  in  which  I  am  most  directly  concerned,  is  the 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    227 

creation  of  the  department  of  Christian  Sociology.  Your  sum- 
mons, therefore,  to  the  service  of  the  College  finds  me  so  far 
committed  to  an  idea  at  the  time  of  its  opportunity,  and  to  such 
definite  and  far-reaching  plans  for  its  accomplishment,  that  I 
have  not  been  able  to  assure  myself  that  I  could  carry  over 
to  the  administration  of  the  College  those  first  great  enthusi- 
asms which  are  the  necessary  condition  of  all  noble  and  effec- 
tive service. 

Beyond  this  commitment  to  an  idea,  to  which  I  have  devoted 
myself,  lies  my  sense  of  obligation  to  the  institution  with  which 
I  am  connected.  It  has  been,  as  you  are  aware,  the  fortune  of 
Andover  Seminary  to  suffer  more  severely  than  other  institu- 
tions of  like  character  under  the  dissensions  of  the  past  years. 
The  legal  difficulties  attending  the  theological  controversy  are 
over,  and  the  controversy  itself  is  practically  at  an  end,  but  the 
Seminary  now  needs  and  demands  the  most  loyal  devotion  of 
those  who  stand  for  its  reconstruction  and  enlargement.  My 
responsibility  to  Andover  is  not  only  that  of  an  alumnus,  but 
also  that  of  an  active  participator  in  the  events  which  have 
brought  about  the  present  condition  of  affairs.  Knowing,  as  I 
do,  all  the  facts  in  reference  to  the  College  and  the  Seminary,  I 
have  no  hesitancy  in  saying  that  the  Seminary  calls  for  more 
arduous  service  in  its  behalf  for  the  next  years  than  the  College. 
It  would  be  inappropriate  for  me  to  specify  in  this  connection 
its  particular  needs,  but  they  are  such  as  to  create  in  the  minds 
of  my  associates  the  same  sense  of  obligation  which  I  have 
avowed  for  myself.  The  unity  which  has  thus  far  characterized 
our  action  is  not  only  the  expression  of  loyalty  to  a  common 
idea,  but  the  acknowledgment  of  a  common  obligation  to  an 
institution  through  which  that  idea  has  been  maintained  in 
courage  and  sacrifice. 

You  will  allow  me  to  remind  you  of  the  advantage  which  I 
have  had,  in  considering  the  question  before  me,  from  my 
knowledge,  as  a  member  of  the  Board,  of  the  condition  of  the 
College.  According  to  that  knowledge  nothing,  in  my  opinion, 
justifies  any  fear  for  its  future.  The  confidence  which  you  have 
reposed  in  me  by  your  election,  and  the  general  unanimity  of 


228  MY  GENERATION 

the  friends  of  the  College  in  accepting  your  choice,  have  deeply 
affected  me.  Under  other  personal  conditions  I  should  respond 
to  your  call  with  the  greatest  alacrity  —  not  however  because 
it  represents  a  present  necessity,  but  rather  because  it  represents 
to  my  mind  a  clear  and  most  alluring  opportunity.  Dartmouth 
College  was  never  in  a  better  condition  to  honor  any  man  by 
its  choice.  As  you  well  know,  the  finances  of  the  College  are 
upon  a  sound  basis  and  its  financial  prospects  are  assuring.  The 
Faculty  is  more  complete  and  represents  a  higher  standard  of 
instruction  than  at  any  time  in  the  history  of  the  College.  The 
Alumni  have  been  brought  into  active  participation  in  the  man- 
agement of  its  affairs.  And  the  Board  of  Trustees  is,  as  has  been 
proved  by  recent  acts,  thoroughly  united  and  harmonious.  Shar- 
ing with  you  the  responsibility  for  the  immediate  future  of  the 
College,  I  express  my  confident  assurance  of  its  peace  and 
prosperity. 

I  am,  in  most  respectful  acknowledgment  of  your  action 
as  a  Board,  and  in  the  highest  personal  esteem  to  you  as  my 
colleagues, 

Very  sincerely  yours 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

Andover,  Mass.,  March  15,  1892 

When  the  decision  embodied  in  this  letter  had  been 
made  and  announced,  I  began  to  be  aware  of  the  strength 
of  the  personal  ties  which  bound  me  to  Andover.  I  had  not 
been  conscious  of  any  undue  assertion  of  sentiment  while 
the  question  of  professional  duty  was  pending.  But  the 
decision  once  made,  I  began  to  realize  what  it  would  have 
meant  to  leave  Andover  upon  such  sudden  notice.  I  have 
refrained  thus  far  from  introducing  those  experiences 
which  center  in  the  home  into  these  professional  "Notes." 
But  it  is  quite  impossible  to  recall  the  Andover  period 
without  referring  to  experiences  in  the  home  within  that 
time,  which  were  vitally  related  to  whatever  had  gone  be- 
fore in  my  professional  life,  and  to  whatever  was  to  follow. 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         229 

In  changing  from  the  pastorate  to  service  in  connection 
with  an  institution,  it  was  naturally  to  be  assumed  that 
there  would  be  much  greater  permanency  of  the  home. 
This  assumption  was  justified  in  regard  to  residence  at 
Andover  by  the  fact  that  certain  friends  of  the  family  and 
of  the  Seminary  had  given  the  Trustees  a  fund  for  build- 
ing a  home  for  my  occupancy.  But  the  house  thus  provided 
was  hardly  occupied  before  it  was  consecrated  by  a  great 
sorrow,  the  greatest  which  can  fall  upon  a  home  —  the 
death  of  the  wife  and  mother.  The  death  of  Mrs.  Tucker, 
though  not  sudden,  was  altogether  unexpected.  It  was 
preceded  by  a  year  of  declining  strength,  but  it  was  im- 
mediately preceded  on  the  advice  of  our  physicians  by  a 
summer  in  England,  which  was  not  without  its  quiet  en- 
joyments. But  she  came  home  only  to  die,  leaving  to  me 
the  remembrance  and  the  influence  of  twelve  years  of  a  com- 
plete companionship  reaching  into  all  the  aspirations  and 
plans  of  my  early  manhood,  and  leaving  upon  all  those 
with  whom  she  came  into  contact  the  lasting  impress  of 
her  high  spirit  and  social  charm,  equally  at  home  and  in 
place  in  society,  and  among  those  needing  her  sympathy 
and  cheer. 

My  marriage  to  Charlotte,  daughter  of  John  Rogers, 
Esq.,  of  Plymouth,  New  Hampshire,  took  place  on  June 
22,  1870,  in  the  third  year  of  my  pastorate  at  Manchester, 
and  her  death  occurred  on  September  15,  1882,  in  the 
third  year  of  our  life  in  Andover.  Twice  again  the  Andover 
home  was  broken  in  upon  —  by  the  death,  ten  years  apart, 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jewett,  to  whom  I  have  had  occasion  to 
refer  often  in  terms  of  filial  affection.  They  had  spent  their 
winters  with  us  in  New  York,  and  the  Andover  home  was 
theirs  to  the  end.  These  three  of  the  family  who  died  at 


230  MY  GENERATION 

Andover  have  their  final  resting  place  in  the  goodly  com- 
pany of  those  who  lie  in  the  burial  place  of  the  Seminary, 
across  the  grounds  to  the  east  of  the  home. 

Immediately  upon  the  death  of  Mrs.  Tucker,  my  sister 
came  to  Andover  from  her  Brooklyn  home  to  take  charge 
of  the  young  children  —  Alice  Lester,  now  Mrs.  Frank  H. 
Dixon,  and  Margaret,  now  Mrs.  Nelson  P.  Brown;  and  as 
Mrs.  Jewett's  health  declined,  to  take  the  full  charge  of 
the  household.  Her  presence  brought  untold  comfort  and 
cheer,  and  as  the  years  went  by,  enabled  the  home  to  re- 
sume much  of  its  wonted  hospitality.  This  most  happy 
service  she  was  able  to  render  for  five  years,  till  her  mar- 
riage to  Professor  Wells,  then  of  Phillips  Academy,  and 
later  of  Bowdoin  and  Dartmouth. 

Of  the  renewal  of  the  home,  and  in  the  deepest  possible 
sense,  of  my  own  life  through  my  marriage  to  Charlotte, 
daughter  of  Dr.  Henry  T.  Cheever,  of  Worcester,  I  can 
hardly  write  except  in  terms  of  the  present.  But  I  cannot 
forget,  though  thirty-two  years  have  since  passed,  that  it 
was  into  the  Andover  home  that  she  brought  those  rare 
gifts  of  mind  and  heart  which  were  to  make  her  life  so 
personal  and  distinctive  through  the  coming  years,  and 
yet  so  unreservedly  and  so  vitally  a  part  of  my  own;  the 
perfect  sincerity  underlying  the  engaging  frankness  of  her 
manners,  the  maturity  of  her  understanding  and  her  quick 
intelligence,  her  unaffected  loyalty  to  things  right  and 
true,  her  just  appreciation  of  others,  and  the  steadfastness 
of  her  personal  devotion. 

The  Andover  home  gave  us  Elizabeth  Washburn,  now 
Mrs.  Frank  W.  Cushwa,  of  Exeter,  her  marriage  making 
the  family  circle  of  that  generation  complete  —  a  family 
circle  now  greatly  extended  and  enlivened  by  the  nine 


THE  TUCKER  HOME  AT  ANDOVER 


THE  SEMINARY  GROUNDS  OPPOSITE  THE  HOUSE 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH 


23* 


grandchildren  who  throng  our  home  at  Christmas  and  on 
all  intermediate  "occasions." 

I  began  this  apparent  digression  into  the  life  of  the 
home  during  the  Andover  period,  to  show  reason  for  the 
contentment  I  felt  when  it  appeared  to  be  unnecessary 
and  unwise  to  break  the  ties  which  held  me  to  Andover. 
But  in  so  doing  I  have  been  able,  I  trust,  to  reveal  some- 
thing of  my  sense  of  the  personal  indebtedness  to  those 
who  have  been  in  so  large  a  degree  the  inspiration  and 
support  of  my  professional  life.  The  Andover  home  was 
the  meeting-place  of  sacred  memories  and  of  restored 
hopes,  which  in  their  backward  and  forward  reach  covered 
nearly  the  whole  of  my  professional  career. 

During  the  weeks  occupied  in  making  the  Dartmouth 
decision,  it  was  impossible  to  do  more  than  to  keep  up  the 
routine  of  the  classroom  and  to  carry  on  one's  necessary 
correspondence. 

Meanwhile  certain  important  matters  were  necessarily 
laid  aside  or  held  in  abeyance.  I  had  hoped  to  give 
considerable  time  to  the  Andover  House,  which  had 
been  opened  on  the  1st  of  January  at  6  Rollins  Street. 
The  work  as  it  had  begun  to  develop  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mr.  Woods  was  most  interesting.  One  could 
not  enter  the  "House"  without  being  impressed  with 
its  object,  and  infected  with  the  quiet  enthusiasm  of  the 
residents.  It  lacked  all  the  characteristics  of  an  insti- 
tution. The  whole  atmosphere  was  personal.  It  was  neces- 
sary, however,  to  interpret  the  "House"  to  some  whom 
we  wished  to  identify  with  it.  This  necessity  called  for 
much  correspondence  and  for  a  good  many  interviews.  It 
was  pleasant  to  be  able  to  resume  this  supporting  service 
in  behalf  of  the  "House"  while  the  home  life  was  getting 


232  MY  GENERATION 

under  way,  and  the  approach  to  the  neighborhood  was 
being  studied  and  carried  on  experimentally. 

Two  other  matters  of  a  different  nature  demanded  more 
urgent  attention.  In  January  I  had  received  an  invitation 
to  give  a  course  of  lectures  at  the  Lowell  Institute  the 
following  winter,  and  also  an  invitation  to  give  the  Phi 
Beta  Kappa  Oration  at  the  next  Harvard  Commencement. 
I  had  accepted  both  invitations,  not  anticipating  so  se- 
rious a  draft  upon  my  time  and  thought  as  that  involved 
in. the  Dartmouth  decision.  The  Lowell  Institute  course 
was  not  due  till  the  ensuing  winter  (the  course  was  actually 
postponed  through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Lowell  to  the 
succeeding  winter),  but  the  preparation  of  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Address  was  urgent.  It  was  my  intention  in  this 
address  to  attempt  an  interpretation  of  those  tendencies 
which  were  leading  the  way  into  the  new  social  order.  I 
hoped  to  be  able  to  show  the  meaning  of  those  ideas  which 
had  been  gaining  force  and  were  gradually  being  resolved 
into  a  single  ruling  idea  The  subject  of  the  address  as  it 
finally  took  shape  in  my  mind,  was  in  the  form  of  a  gener- 
alization, "  The  New  Movement  in  Humanity  —  From 
Liberty  to  Unity."  I  was  well  aware  that  it  is  a  bold 
experiment  to  generalize  in  the  presence  of  an  audience 
accustomed  to  close,  and  for  the  most  part  to  specialized 
thinking,  but  I  believed  that  the  timeliness,  almost  the 
necessity,  of  the  subject  warranted  the  attempt.  As  the 
"Boston  Advertiser"  remarked  editorially  on  the  morn- 
ing after  the  delivery  of  the  address  —  "There  was  noth- 
ing surprising  in  the  choice  of  such  a  subject  for  such  an 
occasion.    It  was  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later." 

To  my  very  great  gratification,  the  address  was  received 
by  the  audience  which  heard  it  and  later  by  the  press,  in 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    233 

the  spirit  in  which  it  was  prepared  and  delivered.  It  was 
generally,  and  I  may  add  in  many  cases  gratefully,  re- 
garded as  an  interpretation  of  what  many  were  not  only 
thinking  but  feeling.  It  may  be  a  sad  commentary  on 
present  international  conditions  to  quote  the  remark  of 
Professor  H.  Grimm,  of  Berlin,  into  whose  hands  the 
address  had  fallen,  but  the  remark  was  not  out  of  keeping 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times.  He  wrote  to  an  American 
friend  in  Boston:  "I  have  been  reading  Professor  Tucker's 
Cambridge  address  once  more  and  shall  probably  read  it 
again.  .  .  .  He  expresses  in  words  what  many  may  have 
felt  before,  who  will  now  believe  that  themselves  had 
thought  these  things  first."  Even  before  the  War,  however, 
the  movement  toward  unity  had  been  arrested  to  make  a 
larger  place  for  equality.  Of  this  fact  I  took  account  in  an 
article  in  the  "Atlantic"  under  date  of  October,  1913,  but 
the  thesis  first  put  forth  still  indicated  the  working  trend 
of  human  progress.  I  think  that  in  spite  of  the  terrible 
contentions  and  enmities  of  the  time,  unity  remains  the 
ruling  craving  of  the  world,  and  that  it  will  appear  in  due 
time  to  be  its  ultimate  goal.1 

The  summer  of  1892  was  spent  at  Cushing's  Island  in 
Portland  Harbor.  Rumors  reached  us  early  in  the  season 
at  our  various  vacation  resorts,  that  a  renewal  of  the 
"Amended  Complaint"  was  to  be  made  to  the  Visitors 
by  the  remaining  complainants.  These  rumors  were  later 

1  This  address,  after  its  quite  general  publication  in  the  daily  and  weekly 
press,  was  revised  for  publication  in  the  October  number,  1892,  —  the  first 
issue  —  of  the  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  and  was  later  issued  in  pamphlet 
form  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Company.  The  address  was  widely  accepted  as  an 
exposition  of  the  deeper  significance  of  the  social  movement,  and  as  such  served 
to  give  to  the  movement  both  consistency  and  scope.  As  it  is  now  out  of  print, 
this  address  has  been  included  in  The  New  Reservation  of  Time  —  a  book  of 
later  essays. 


234  MY  GENERATION 

verified,  causing  further  conference  and  preparation  for 
the  renewed  attack;  but  this  final  action  of  the  complain- 
ants was  disposed  of,  as  has  been  shown,  by  the  dismissal 
of  their  case  by  the  Visitors  before  the  opening  of  the 
academic  year.  When  the  Seminary  opened  in  the  fall  it 
was  free,  for  the  first  time  in  ten  years,  of  the  actualities 
or  threats  of  conflict.  A  large  class  presented  itself  for 
entrance.  The  Seminary  resumed  its  work  with  undivided 
attention  to  its  normal  activities. 

In  my  personal  outlook,  however,  the  prospect  was  not 
so  clear  and  undisturbed;  for  it  was  at  this  juncture  that 
I  began  to  be  made  aware  of  my  growing  responsibility 
in  Dartmouth  affairs.  At  the  meeting  of  the  Dartmouth 
Trustees  following  my  declination  of  the  presidency,  I  was 
appointed  chairman  of  the  committee  to  nominate  to  the 
Board  a  candidate  for  the  position.  I  knew,  of  course, 
that  the  work  of  this  committee  would  necessitate  much 
correspondence  and  general  investigation,  but  I  was  to 
learn  only  through  experience  of  the  various  embarrass- 
ments and  complications  which  it  involved.  To  make  plain 
the  results  of  my  experience,  I  must  refer  in  some  detail  to 
the  peculiar  situation  then  existing  at  Dartmouth  growing 
out  of  what  was  known  as  the  "Alumni  Movement,"  the 
immediate  object  of  which  was  to  secure  adequate  repre- 
sentation upon  the  Governing  Board.  By  the  terms  of  its 
charter,  the  government  of  the  College  was  vested  in  a 
single  and  self-perpetuating  Board,  of  twelve  members, 
including  the  Governor  of  the  State  of  New  Hampshire 
ex  officio.  The  President  of  the  College  became  by  his 
election  a  member  of  the  Board,  and  by  usage  its  President. 
The  charter  provided  that  eight  members  should  be  res- 
idents of  New  Hampshire,  and  that  seven  members  should 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    235 

be  laymen.  This  last  provision  was  apparently  out  of 
keeping  with  the  usage  of  the  time,  but  had  its  probable 
explanation  in  the  ecclesiastical  complications  attending 
the  English  benefactions  at  the  time  of  the  founding  of  the 
College. 

Various  efforts  had  been  made  from  time  to  time  to 
secure  direct  alumni  participation  in  the  government  of 
the  College,  but  it  was  not  a  simple  matter  to  gain  legal 
entrance  into  the  Board  of  Trustees,  even  by  its  own  con- 
sent or  through  its  own  cooperation.  In  1876  an  agree- 
ment was  made  between  the  Trustees  and  the  Alumni 
Association  by  which  the  Trustees  were  to  allow  the 
alumni  to  nominate  a  certain  number,  from  which  number 
the  Trustees  were  to  choose  three.  I  was  one  of  the  three 
thus  nominated  and  chosen  two  years  later;  but  this 
agreement  afforded  only  temporary  relief,  as  the  election 
in  each  case  was  for  life  and  allowed  no  subsequent  choice 
of  the  alumni  by  any  system  of  rotation.  The  inherent 
difficulty  in  every  proposed  change  at  all  adequate  to  the 
demand  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  required  an  amendment  to 
the  charter,  the  suggestion  even  of  which  was  repugnant 
to  all  graduates  familiar  with  the  legal  history  of  the  Col- 
lege, and  imbued  with  the  traditions  of  the  Dartmouth 
College  case.  After  long  and  often  bitter  discussion  run- 
ning through  more  than  one  administration,  but  culminating 
at  the  close  of  the  administration  of  President  Bartlett, 
the  matter  was  amicably  settled  on  the  basis  of  a  "gentle- 
man's agreement,"  in  which  three  parties  were  con- 
cerned —  the  Trustees,  the  alumni  as  a  body,  and  the 
candidates  nominated  by  the  alumni  for  election  by  the 
Board.  By  this  agreement  five  trustees  were  to  be  known 
as  alumni  trustees,  nominated  by  the  alumni  and  elected 


236  MY  GENERATION 

by  the  Trustees.  In  the  election  by  the  Trustees  no  speci- 
fication of  time  was  made  (that  would  have  been  contrary 
to  the  charter),  but  each  alumnus  thus  elected  pledged 
himself  to  the  alumni  to  resign  at  the  end  of  five  years, 
though  eligible  for  renomination  and  reelection.  This  ar- 
rangement virtually  put  the  alumni  in  control  of  the  Col- 
lege, through  the  designation  of  one  half  of  the  permanent 
membership  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  besides  making  the 
Board  sensitive  to  alumni  sentiment.1 

Even  with  this  explanation,  one  can  well  understand 
how  difficult  it  was  for  any  but  Dartmouth  men  to  see  the 
importance  of  the  movement  which  I  have  described.  Its 
real  importance  was  that  it  marked  a  transition  in  the 
government  of  the  College  involving  almost  of  necessity 
a  change  of  policy.  It  at  least  created  an  opportunity  which 
conceivably  might  be  unimproved  or  misimproved.  It  was 
the  liability  that  one  or  the  other  of  these  results  might 
follow  which  increased  the  anxiety  of  the  friends  of  the 
College,  as  the  year  wore  on  without  the  choice  of  a  pres- 
ident. It  was  this  liability  which  made  the  choice  increas- 
ingly difficult,  and  added  to  the  anxiety  of  those  who  had 
the  matter  in  charge.  The  presumption  was  almost  irre- 
sistible in  favor  of  the  choice  of  an  alumnus,  and  of  one 
familiar  with  the  history  of  the  College.  The  man  of  un- 
deniable fitness  in  this  latter  regard,  as  in  all  academic 
ways,  was  Francis  Brown,  grandson  of  the  third  President 
and  son  of  Professor  Samuel  G.  Brown  —  at  the  time 
Professor  of  Hebrew  in  Union  Theological  Seminary.  The 
Committee  entered  at  once  into  correspondence  with  him, 
offering  him  the  presidency  and  urging  its  acceptance 

1  For  a  clear  and  accurate  narrative  of  the  struggle  for  alumni  representation 
on  the  Dartmouth  Hoard  of  Trustees,  see  History  of  Dartmouth  College  (Pro- 
fessor Johu  K.  Lord),  vol.  11,  pp.  378-81,  435-70. 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    237 

upon  him.  As  Professor  Brown  was  then  in  Oxford,  Eng- 
land, engaged  in  editing  a  Hebrew  lexicon,  the  corre- 
spondence was  necessarily  protracted,  and  in  the  end  un- 
successful, not  from  any  lack  of  loyalty  on  the  part  of 
Professor  Brown,  but  on  account  of  engagements  both  at 
Oxford  and  at  Union  from  which  he  could  not,  as  he  felt, 
honorably  obtain  release.  The  search  went  on  unremit- 
tingly throughout  the  year,  but  for  one  reason  or  another 
with  unsatisfactory  results.  I  could  see  that  my  fellow 
members  on  the  Committee  were  working  with  lessening 
enthusiasm,  and  I  was  obliged  to  confess  to  myself  that  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  a  lessening  confidence  in  the  result. 
At  last  in  a  special  meeting  of  the  Committee  with  the 
Trustees  near  the  close  of  the  year,  one  of  my  colleagues 
on  the  Board  put  to  me  directly  but  delicately  the  ques- 
tion whether  the  relative  positions  of  Andover  and  Dart- 
mouth had  not  so  far  changed  during  the  year,  that  the 
latter  now  made  its  appeal  to  one's  courage  and  sense  of 
chivalry.  The  question  touched  the  point  at  which  I  had 
become  sensitive  in  my  own  feelings.  I  could  not  alto- 
gether put  by  the  disturbing  feeling  that,  as  the  outcome 
of  my  decision  was  beginning  to  show,  I  had  chosen  the 
easier  rather  than  the  more  strenuous  course.  And  the  fur- 
ther question  became  more  and  more  disquieting,  namely, 
whether  the  apparently  plain  duty,  as  determined  by 
personal  fitness,  must  not  yield  to  the  duty  which  was 
making  its  persistent  demands  through  the  pressure  of 
responsibility.  I  can  also  now  see,  upon  reflection,  that  as 
I  had  occasion  to  make  myself  more  familiar  with  the 
problems  of  academic  education,  and  especially  with  the 
aims  of  undergraduate  life,  I  began  to  realize  the  fact 
that  the  more  specialized  purposes  which  I  had  sought  to 


238  MY  GENERATION 

attain  through  training  for  the  ministry,  might  have  a 
broader  application  in  the  training  of  college  men.  It  was 
becoming  more  and  more  evident  that  the  fundamental 
duties  involved  in  the  readjustments  of  society  must  be 
assumed  by  all  the  professions,  and  by  men  of  affairs, 
some  of  whom  might  be  expected,  under  the  right  incen- 
tives, to  render  a  larger  and  more  practical  service  than 
the  ministry,  could  the  colleges  be  made  to  furnish  the 
sufficient  motive  to  the  study  of  the  principles  of  economic 
justice. 

It  was  no  easier  to  acknowledge  than  it  was  to  effect  the 
reversal  of  decision  toward  which  my  mind  was  tending. 
The  change,  even  in  view  of  the  altered  situation,  seemed 
to  be  of  that  personal  character  which  would  not  allow 
one  to  take  the  public,  hardly  indeed  his  friends,  into  his 
confidence.  My  colleagues  at  Andover,  as  they  came  to 
understand  my  feelings,  were  very  generous  in  their  bear- 
ing, and  acquiesced  in  the  change  with  varying  degrees 
of  assent.  The  following  letter  from  Judge  Bishop,  of  the 
Andover  Board  of  Trustees,  written  after  my  decision 
had  been  announced  informally  to  the  members  of  the 
Board,  is  such  an  illustration  of  the  depth  and  sincerity 
of  the  feeling  of  my  associates,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from 
quoting  it,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  could  not  accept 
either  the  professional  or  personal  comparisons  which  he 
so  generously  makes: 

Newton  Center 

Jan.  27,  1893 

My  dear  Dr.  Tucker  : 

I  am  replying  too  late  to  your  letter,  but  you  know  some  of 
the  exactions  of  my  life,  and  with  your  determination  reached, 
I  have  not  felt  the  anxiety  of  a  decision  to  be  made  which  would 
have  impelled  a  reply  at  once. 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         239 

Looking  at  the  matter  now  from  my  point  of  view,  it  seems 
strange  to  me  what  a  difference  there  is  between  the  way  it 
appealed  to  me  before,  and  the  way  it  comes  to  me  now.  Before 
the  decision  in  the  former  instance,  I  was  strenuous  about  it  in 
opposition,  and  should  be  now  if  it  were  an  open  question;  now 
that  it  is  settled,  I  have  been  trying  to  extract  all  the  good  I 
can  from  it.  I  cannot  write  you  such  a  letter  as  I  ought  to  write 
about  it.  I  have  just  the  same  feeling  of  desire  that  you  should 
stay  in  Andover,  and  the  same  sense  of  the  importance  of  your 
staying,  but  the  greatness  of  the  work  to  which  you  go  appeals 
to  me,  and  I  say  that  your  judgment  has  been  more  intelligent 
than  the  judgment  of  any  of  your  friends  can  be,  and  has  been 
conscientious  and  thorough.  So,  let  us  all  who  thought  other- 
wise abide  in  faith  and  trust  that  the  right  course  has  been  pur- 
sued. Above  all,  it  is  the  guidance  of  God. 

I  think  your  life  would  be  worth  little  to  you,  if  you  were 
not  enlisted  with  all  your  powers  in  a  movement;  and  whether 
at  Andover  or  at  Hanover  matters  little  to  the  incoming  of 
the  Kingdom  which  the  movement  serves.  In  comparison  with 
such  a  work  as  yours,  I  think  of  the  indirect  and  far  off  partici- 
pation which  such  a  calling  as  mine  affords  for  service  in  the 
warfare  of  righteousness,  and  am  restless.  But  I  know  enough 
about  your  aims,  your  insight,  and  the  zest  which  comes  with 
such  a  work,  to  give  you  my  hand  and  heart  in  this  new  de- 
velopment of  it. 

Faithfully  yours 

Robert  R.  Bishop 

The  Reverend 

William  J.  Tucker,  D.D. 

The  disposition  of  the  friends  of  the  Seminary  was  so 
clearly  expressed  in  the  editorial  in  the  "Andover  Towns- 
man" following  the  public  announcement  of  my  resigna- 
tion, that  I  give  it  in  an  accompanying  footnote.1 

1  It  is  difficult  to  frame  in  words  the  feeling  among  all  who  have  been 
brought  in  contact  with  Prof.  Tucker,  whether  educationally  or  socially,  at  this 
prospective  sundering  of  ties.  The  sentiment  of  pain  is  doubly  poignant,  like 
that  of  a  freshly  opened  wound,  from  the  circumstance  that  last  year's  appre- 


240  MY  GENERATION 

* 

As  the  reversal  of  my  decision  had  been  fully  discussed 
with  both  the  official  Boards  concerned,  the  letter  of 
resignation  to  the  Andover  Trustees  was  quickly  followed 
by  the  letter  of  acceptance  to  the  Dartmouth  Trustees. 
The  text  of  each  letter  is  given  in  full  and  each  supple- 
ments the  other.  I  question  if  these  letters  were  convinc- 
ing to  all  who  read  them  in  the  morning  papers  of  their 
respective  dates,  but  I  do  not  know  that  I  could  at  that 
time  have  made  the  issue  clearer,  or  the  reason  for  the 
reversal  of  my  decision  more  compelling. 

To  the  Reverend  and  Honorable  the  Trustees  of  Phillips 
Academy: 

Gentlemen  —  According  to  the  intention,  of  which  you  have 
been  apprized,  of  resigning  my  chair  in  the  Seminary  to  accept 
the  Presidency  of  Dartmouth  College,  I  now  present  to  you  my 
formal  resignation  to  take  effect,  if  agreeable  to  you,  on  the 
first  of  May.  My  work  for  the  academic  year  can  then  be  brought 
to  a  close,  and,  as  I  am  assured,  without  inconvenience  to  my 
colleagues. 

The  decision  through  which,  with  your  consent,  I  thus  sever 
my  connection  with  the  Seminary,  has  been  reached  only  after 
convincing  proofs  of  personal  duty.  Each  year  of  my  service 
has  bound  me  more  closely  to  the  Seminary  by  every  tie  of 

hensions  were  quieted  by  his  declination  of  the  same  distinction.  Yet  all  must 
recognize  the  cogency  of  the  reasons  which  he  has  made  public,  to  justify  his 
change  of  decision.  The  Seminary,  where  for  a  dozen  years  he  has  labored  in- 
defatigably  and  with  the  utmost  popularity,  has  entered  on  a  new  era,  free 
from  the  agitations  and  strifes  which  have  long  harassed  and  weakened  it.  No 
one  of  the  faculty  has  more  sturdily  maintained  the  central  citadel  of  the  Prot- 
estant Reformation,  "the  right  of  private  judgment,"  than  Prof.  Tucker,  and 
he  would  have  been  the  last  to  retire  from  the  field  while  danger  menaced.  Now 
that  peace  has  been  permanently  declared,  however,  he  feels  free  to  remove  to 
another  arena  of  activity;  and  neither  his  colleagues,  nor  his  admiring  students, 
nor  the  private  friends  whom  he  so  largely  numbers  among  our  citizens,  can  inter- 
pose an  objection  when  he  avers  that  duty  calls  him  into  other  work  in  new  re- 
lations. They  can  one  and  all  do  no  more  than  voice  their  disappointment,  but 
with  equal  unanimity  hasten  to  add  their  most  cordial  wishes  for  his  success  in 
the  future.  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt. 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH    241 

loyalty,  of  friendship  and  affection  and  of  enthusiasm  for  my 
work.  The  long  period  of  controversy  which  has  covered  almost 
the  entire  term  of  my  service,  has  had  its  greater  compensations 
in  the  enlarging  sense  of  spiritual  freedom  and  in  the  joy  of 
progress.  I  do  not  look  upon  the  period  as  a  time  of  delay  or  of 
waste.  Still  I  had  hoped  and  confidently  expected  that  in  the 
years  of  repose  now  before  us  I  should  be  able  to  enter  with  my 
colleagues  into  the  greater  opportunities  for  securing  positive 
results. 

It  is  with  reluctance  and  in  deep  personal  feeling  that  I  put 
aside  the  hope  and  promise  of  these  particular  results,  or  seek 
to  secure  their  equivalent  under  other  conditions.  But  that  it  is 
my  duty  to  go  at  the  cost  of  these  gains,  as  at  the  cost  of  many 
personal  ties  most  precious  to  me,  I  cannot  doubt. 

I  desire  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to  you  for  many 
unofficial  acts  of  kindness  and  appreciation,  and  to  express  my 
profound  sense  of  the  fidelity,  the  consistency  and  the  courage 
with  which  you  have  administered  the  affairs  of  the  Seminary. 
I  am,  in  the  highest  esteem 

Very  respectfully  yours 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

Andover,  Mass.,  Feb.  1,  1893 

To  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College: 

Gentlemen  —  The  letter  of  your  committee,  urging  upon 
me,  in  your  behalf,  the  reconsideration  of  my  decision  in  regard 
to  the  presidency,  is  before  me.  I  assure  you  that  I  am  moved 
by  your  continued  confidence,  as  you  reaffirm  your  "original 
choice"  and  pledge  to  me  "in  case  of  my  acceptance  of  the 
office  of  president  the  unanimous  support  of  the  board  and  the 
cooperation  of  all  its  members." 

And  like  representations  from  the  faculty  and  from  the  ex- 
ecutive committee  of  the  alumni  touching  the  present  necessities 
of  the  College,  have  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind.  I  may 
add,  however,  that  my  own  personal  solicitude,  under  the  pro- 
tracted delay  in  filling  the  presidency,  has  been  perhaps  as  great 
as  that  of  any  concerned  for  the  welfare  of  the  institution. 


242  MY  GENERATION 

You  may  recall  that  in  declining  your  election  to  the  office 
a  year  since,  I  said  at  the  close  of  my  letter  that  "I  shared  with 
you  the  responsibility  for  the  immediate  future  of  the  College." 
These  words  were  written  in  the  full  sense  of  their  meaning. 

And  yet  they  have  meant  something  quite  different  from  that 
which  I  anticipated.  I  confidently  expected  that  we  should  be 
able  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  service  of  some  one  of  the  alumni 
who  had  achieved  success  in  educational  affairs,  or  of  some  one 
outside  of  the  alumni  who  could  bring  to  the  College  a  large 
educational  knowledge  and  experience. 

But  we  have  found  that  those  of  the  alumni  to  whom  we 
naturally  turned  were  held  in  their  places  by  reasons  so  much 
to  their  honor  that  we  could  not  rightly  seek  to  remove  them, 
and  we  have  also  found  that  the  present  exigency  demands  in- 
creasingly the  choice  of  an  alumnus.  It  has  now  become  as 
evident  to  me,  as  it  has  been  to  you,  that  further  delay  will 
seriously  imperil  the  success  of  the  College  and  thwart  its  pres- 
ent opportunity. 

In  the  rapid  advances  which  are  going  on  in  educational 
methods,  and  especially  in  the  adjustment  of  the  traditional 
college  to  the  broad  work  of  the  "higher  education,"  Dartmouth 
has  an  immediate  and  honorable  part  to  take,  which,  I  agree 
with  you  in  believing,  can  no  longer  wait  a  more  extended  search 
on  our  part  for  a  president. 

I  am  prepared  therefore  to  say,  in  deference  to  your  judgment, 
that  after  the  most  careful  deliberation  I  am  now  ready  to 
accede  to  your  renewed  request,  and  to  accept  the  presidency. 

Further  remark  would  be  unnecessary,  had  I  not  emphasized 
the  reasons  for  declining  the  office  a  year  ago.  The  reasons  which 
I  then  urged  still  exist,  and  are  in  principle  the  ruling  motive  of 
my  present  as  of  my  former  decision.  It  was  institutional  loyalty 
which  then  held  me  at  Andover;  it  is  the  same  principle  which 
now  sends  me  to  Dartmouth. 

Not  that  the  year  has  wrought  violent  changes  in  either  in- 
stitution, but  while  it  has  brought  greater  security  and  growth 
to  the  Seminary,  it  has  left  the  College  in  unrelieved  suspense 
and  perplexity.  One  may  easily  exaggerate  his  personal  value 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         243 

to  the  work  of  any  institution,  but  when  a  choice  of  service  is 
forced  upon  him,  nothing  remains  to  him  as  a  loyal  man  but  to 
acknowledge  the  greater  need,  and  to  act  resolutely  upon  his 
conviction. 

I  obey  the  present  summons  to  the  service  of  Dartmouth  in 
the  same  spirit  in  which  I  remained  at  Andover,  and  in  which  I 
would  still  remain  were  the  relative  necessity  the  same  now  as 
then.  And  as  I  go  I  take  with  me  an  unabated  affection  and 
loyalty  to  the  institution  in  whose  service  the  most  earnest 
years  of  my  life  thus  far  have  been  spent. 

In  like  manner  I  think  that  it  may  be  rightly  assumed  that 
the  method  and  plan  of  one's  life  may  be  changed  without  sur- 
rendering its  general  or  even  specific  purpose.  It  seemed  to  me, 
as  indicated  in  my  former  letter,  that  there  were  certain  great 
social  principles,  necessary  to  the  present  development  of  so- 
ciety, which  could  be  better  wrought  out  through  the  Christian 
ministry  than  through  any  other  medium. 

I  think  so  still.  I  believe  that  the  special  opportunity  to  lead 
the  way  in  social  progress  which  presents  itself  now  to  this, 
now  to  that  calling,  lies  to-day  at  the  door  of  the  ministry.  The 
opportunity  may  not  extend  into  the  next  generation,  but  it  is 
present  and  urgent. 

Holding  this  opinion,  I  have  been  most  reluctant  to  sever  my 
connection  with  young  men  in  training  for  the  ministry.  But  I 
am  aware  that  adherence  to  a  personal  plan  or  method  may  be 
carried  to  the  point  of  self-will  and  narrowness,  and  react  upon 
the  very  purpose  which  one  is  seeking  to  accomplish. 

The  particular  end  which  at  a  given  time  is  best  realized 
through  one  profession,  cannot  be  remote  from  any  other.  In- 
deed, one  of  the  most  helpful  signs  of  the  present  is  the  better 
distribution  of  the  moral  responsibilities  of  learning. 

While,  therefore,  in  entering  upon  the  broader  work  of  general 
education,  I  shall  address  myself  carefully  to  educational  ques- 
tions, I  shall  in  no  wise  lose  sight  of  those  more  spiritual  and 
human  ends  toward  which  the  better  life  of  our  colleges  and  uni- 
versities is  advancing. 

In  my  letter  of  resignation,  now  in  the  hands  of  the  trustees 


244  MY  GENERATION 

of  the  Seminary,  I  have  asked  that  my  former  connection  with 
the  Seminary  may  terminate  on  the  1st  of  May.  If  this  proposal 
should  meet  with  their  acceptance,  as  I  am  already  assured 
that  it  will  suit  the  convenience  of  my  colleagues,  I  shall  be 
prepared  to  enter  at  that  date  upon  such  duties  of  the  presi- 
dency as  have  not  been  delegated  for  the  time  being  to  Prof. 
Lord  as  acting  president,  under  whom  the  College  has  been  so 
successfully  administered  the  past  year.  I  shall  be  prepared  to 
enter  upon  the  full  duties  of  the  office  upon  my  inauguration  as 
president  at  the  next  commencement.  I  am,  in  high  esteem 
toward  you  as  my  colleagues,  most  sincerely  yours, 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

Andover,  Mass.,  Feb.  3,  1893 

The  problem  of  the  institutional  development  of  the 
Seminary  had  not  taken  shape  when  I  left  Andover.  Had 
such  development  been  under  way  or  even  imminent,  I 
might  have  felt  it  incumbent  upon  me  to  stay  and  take 
part  in  it.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  Andover  that  its  in- 
stitutional development  should  have  become  a  problem. 
In  the  order  of  progress,  a  constructive  era  should  have 
followed  close  upon  the  termination  of  the  controversial 
period.  But  the  intervening  period  of  financial  depletion 
was  so  far  prolonged  that  the  institutional  development 
when  it  came,  came  as  a  necessity  rather  than  as  an  op- 
portunity. The  difficulty,  however,  was  in  the  situation; 
it  was  really  organic.  Without  an  institutional  reorgani- 
zation there  could  be  no  adequate  institutional  leadership. 
The  Faculty  had  no  administrative  power.  The  President 
of  the  Faculty  had  no  seat  on  the  Board  of  Trustees.  The 
Trustees  had  the  twofold  duty  of  administering  the  affairs 
of  the  Academy  and  of  the  Seminary.  During  the  long 
period  of  conflict  which  had  engaged  so  closely  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Trustees,  the  Academy  had  received  an  unequal 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         245 

share  of  administrative  oversight.  It  could  now  justly 
claim  the  greater  attention.  The  administration  of  the 
Seminary  called  for  economy  to  meet  the  indebtedness 
caused  by  the  long  litigation.  The  immediate  demand  was 
for  restriction,  not  for  expansion.  And  when  the  necessity 
for  constructive  effort  was  urged,  there  lurked  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  discussion  the  decision  of  the  Supreme 
Court  which  had  left  the  Visitors  practically  undisturbed 
in  their  position,  though  under  modified  authority.  The 
result  of  the  conflict  had  not  been  a  gain  in  institutional 
freedom  corresponding  to  the  gain  in  theological  freedom. 
It  was  soon  evident  that  the  constructive  period  must 
wait  for  such  changes,  or  such  a  change  in  administrative 
powers,  as  would  allow  the  exercise  of  institutional  leader- 
ship. Time  would  show  the  necessity  for  such  a  change, 
but  not  as  it  proved  till  other  changes  were  also  seen  to  be 
necessary. 

For  several  years  the  Seminary  remained,  so  far  as  at- 
tendance was  concerned,  upon  the  high  level  on  which  it 
was  left  at  the  conclusion  of  the  controversy.  When  the 
institutional  development  which  had  been  assumed  failed 
to  take  place,  the  decline  in  numbers  began,  and  this  de- 
cline gave  rise  to  the  vexing  question  of  removal.  There 
had  been  for  some  time  a  latent  desire  on  the  part  of  some 
members  of  the  Faculty  to  remove  to  Cambridge,  and 
effect  a  definite  if  not  organic  relation  with  Harvard  Uni- 
versity. This  desire  was  in  accord  with  the  general  trend 
of  the  professional  schools  toward  a  closer  affiliation  with 
the  Universities.  The  removal  of  Mansfield  College  to 
Oxford  had  indicated  the  institutional  tendency  of  theo- 
logical education  in  England. 

I  was  frequently  asked  to  express  my  opinion  as  an 


246  MY  GENERATION 

alumnus  on  the  question  of  removal  from  Andover.  To 
these  requests,  I  declined  to  make  answer,  because  it 
would  have  been  an  unseemly  thing  for  me  to  take  part  in  a 
matter  to  which  I  had  no  longer  any  responsible  relation, 
and  also  because,  as  I  did  not  hesitate  to  say,  the  supreme 
question  seemed  to  me  to  be  not  that  of  the  removal  of 
the  Seminary,  but  that  of  the  creation  of  a  Board  exclu- 
sively concerned  with  the  affairs  of  the  Seminary,  to  which 
this  and  all  like  matters  could  be  referred.  The  creation  of 
a  separate  Board  for  exclusive  attention  to  the  Seminary 
was  happily  brought  about  by  legislative  action,  resulting 
in  most  beneficial  effects  upon  the  Academy,  and  as  I 
doubt  not  will  appear  in  due  time  upon  the  Seminary. 
Had  I  expressed  the  private  opinion  which  I  then  held 
upon  the  question  of  locality  I  should  have  advocated 
removal,  but  removal  to  Boston  instead  of  Cambridge.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  a  seminary  of  the  assured  traditions 
of  Andover  for  scholarship,  would  find  a  more  needed 
stimulus  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  city  than  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  University.  A  theological  school  seems 
to  have  more  difficulty  in  maintaining  its  distinctive  pro- 
fessional aims  under  the  diverting  influences  of  a  uni- 
versity than  a  law  school  or  a  medical  school.  The  cata- 
logues of  these  various  schools  are  in  evidence  at  this  point. 
As  compared  with  his  fellow  student  in  law  or  medicine, 
the  theological  student  is  more  sensitive  to  the  lure  of  the 
purely  academic.  Where  the  professional  stage  of  educa- 
tion is  reached,  I  believe  that  education  must  become 
definitely  and  aggressively  set  toward  the  specific  end  of 
a  given  profession.  And  unless  there  has  been  some  de- 
ficiency in  the  academic  training  of  a  student  of  theology, 
he  cannot  concentrate  too  resolutely  upon  his  essential 


ANDOVER  AND  DARTMOUTH         247 

business.  But  the  expression  of  this  opinion  has  now  no 
pertinency,  unless  it  be  in  the  general  interest  of  more 
distinctively  professional  training  for  the  ministry.  I  have 
accepted  in  good  faith  the  decision  of  the  new  Andover 
trustees  to  remove  to  Cambridge,  and  to  build  up  Andover 
in  the  new  environment. 


CHAPTER  IX 


The  Dartmouth  Period 
1893-1909 

MODERNIZING  AN  HISTORIC  COLLEGE 

I 

"The  Corporate  Consciousness  of  the  College" 

II 

The  Traditions  of  Dartmouth 

III 

Reconstruction  and  Expansion 

IV 

The  New  Morale 

V 

An  Advanced  Policy  Toward  Non-Professional  Graduates 

VI 

Professional  and  Public  Relations  during  the  Presidency 

VII 

Two  Years  of  Crippled  Leadership 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD 

I 

"The  Corporate  Consciousness  of  the  College" 

Before  entering  upon  the  course  of  the  College  adminis- 
tration at  Dartmouth,  I  discuss  briefly  the  general  but 
underlying  subject  of  the  institutional  life  of  a  college. 
This  inner  life  of  a  college  viewed  as  an  institution,  its 
institutional  spirit,  is  called  in  the  quotation  placed  at  the 
head  of  this  section  "the  corporate  consciousness  of  the 
college."  As  such  it  is  the  most  vital  and  the  most  sensitive 
element  in  its  effect  upon  college  administration.  It  may 
make  itself  felt  in  ways  which  are  most  perplexing,  but  it 
may  also  be  made  use  of  for  large  and  timely  result.  In  any 
event  it  is  an  ever  present  force,  never  to  be  ignored  and 
never  to  be  neglected. 

Our  American  colleges  and  universities  are,  in  a  peculiar 
and  most  significant  sense,  institutions.  They  represent 
more  distinctly  and  more  impressively  than  anything  else 
the  institutional  life  of  the  country.  Some  of  them  were 
chartered  before  the  organization  of  the  Government. 
The  charters  of  all,  at  whatever  period  granted,  or  whether 
conferred  on  private  or  public  foundation,  breathe  the 
same  spirit.  They  are  more  than  charters  of  rights.  They 
try  to  express  in  various  ways  the  public  interest,  a  sense 
of  the  social  necessity  for  which  they  would  provide,  the 
obligation  of  the  State  to  the  higher  education.  These 
chartered  obligations  are  generously  supported  by  public 
or  private  benefactions.  Gifts  are  quickly  transmuted  into 


250  MY  GENERATION 

sentiment.  Interest  develops  into  pride.  Colleges  and  uni- 
versities absorb  very  much  of  the  public  feeling  which 
finds  expression  in  the  attitude  of  the  people  toward  the 
establishments  of  the  Old  World.  In  the  absence  of  the 
ceremonials  of  a  State  Church,  the  academic  ceremonial 
is  the  most  impressive  of  all  public  displays,  and  is  likely 
to  so  remain,  unless  we  become  a  military  nation. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  explain  the  place  which  the  college 
or  university  holds  in  public  sentiment.  It  stands  far  in 
advance  among  the  things  which  have  a  recognized  spir- 
itual value,  using  the  term  in  its  broad  meaning.  The  sub- 
stance of  the  college  does  not  consist  primarily  in  the 
popular  estimation  in  its  physical  properties,  or  even  in 
its  curriculum,  but  in  its  idealism.  It  is  the  institutional 
spirit  which  gives  public  value  to  an  academic  institution. 
A  college  administrator  is  expected  to  be  more  than  a 
financier,  more  than  a  schoolmaster.  He  must  embody  in 
some  tangible  and  expressive  way  "the  corporate  con- 
sciousness of  the  college." 

Before  making  further  use  of  this  quotation,  I  will  give 
its  connection.  It  is  taken  from  a  communication  by  Dr. 
Kirsopp  Lake  to  the  "Harvard  Quarterly,"  after  attend- 
ing his  first  Commencement  at  Harvard,  1914.  This  char- 
acterization of  the  spirit  of  the  American  college  is  very 
striking  and  very  significant  as  rendered  by  so  eminent 
an  academic  authority.  Such  an  interpretation  could  not 
have  been  given  by  one  less  versed  in  the  genius  of  the 
earlier  and  later  European  universities. 

If  we  compare  [he  says]  Harvard  Commencement  with  the 
Dies  of  a  Dutch  University,  or  even  with  Commemoration  at 
Oxford,  two  things  emerge  as  representing  points  in  which  the 
American  college  of  to-day  has  an  advantage  over  anything 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  251 

which  exists  in  Europe  at  the  present  time;  and  the  historical 
imagination  is  reminded  by  them  of  the  Middle  Ages  when  the 
great  universities  of  the  old  world  were  in  the  full  power  of  their 
youth.  These  things  are  the  consciousness  of  the  Alumni  of  their 
membership  in  the  University,  and  the  spirit  of  religion  —  in 
the  real  sense  of  the  word  —  which  inspires  the  corporate  con- 
sciousness of  the  College.  The  college  man  seems  impressed  to 
a  wonderful  extent  with  a  lively  sense  that  he  has  been  called 
with  a  great  vocation.  To  most  of  them  this  is  much  more  vivid 
than  the  feeling  that  they  have  received  some  sort  of  teaching 
which  will  be  useful  to  them  in  their  personal  careers.  ...  So 
it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages.  .  .  .  The  college  men  of  to-day  can 
rarely  speak  or  understand  the  language  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but 
they  seem  often  to  have  been  "stung  by  the  splendor"  of  the 
same  thought  as  inflamed  the  hearts  of  the  men  of  those  days. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  one  be  versed  in  mediaeval 
customs,  or  possessed  in  high  degree  of  the  historical 
imagination,  to  understand  Dr.  Lake's  interpretation  of 
the  spirit  of  the  American  college.  According  to  this  inter- 
pretation, it  is  the  distinction  of  the  college  that  it  creates 
a  "corporate  consciousness,"  which  in  turn  is  capable  of 
creating  in  the  college  man"  a  lively  sense  that  he  has  been 
called  with  a  great  vocation."  When  the  college  man  of 
to-day  really  enters  into  this  consciousness,  and  is  really 
touched  by  the  sense  of  the  vocation  with  which  he  has 
been  called,  he  is  "stung  by  the  splendor"  of  the  same 
thought  that  inflamed  the  hearts  of  the  men  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

Although  this  exposition  of  the  more  spiritual  type  of 
American  academic  life  is  heightened  somewhat  by  the 
historic  imagination  of  the  writer,  it  is  in  essential  harmony 
with  the  view  of  the  idealistic  school  of  our  own  educators. 
In  their  view,  the  college  stands  for  more  than  finds  ex- 
pression in  any  technical  or  cultural  output.  It  represents 


252  MY  GENERATION 

also  in  high  degree  the  play  of  those  deeper  human  forces 
which  have  such  freedom  and  scope  in  the  whole  range  of 
human  life.  In  1909,  at  the  Inauguration  of  President 
Nichols  at  Dartmouth,  Woodrow  Wilson,  then  President 
of  Princeton,  gave  an  address  in  which  he  made  the  fol- 
lowing acknowledgment  of  the  real  nature  of  our  academic 
communities.  The  address  was  given  before  representa- 
tives from  all  the  leading  colleges  and  universities  of  the 
country,  and  evidently  met  with  their  approval. 

I  have  been  thinking,  as  I  sat  here  to-night,  how  little,  except 
in  coloring  and  superficial  lines,  a  body  of  men  like  this  differs 
from  a  body  of  undergraduates.  You  have  only  to  look  at  a 
body  of  men  like  this  long  enough  to  see  the  mask  of  years  fall 
off  and  the  spirit  of  the  younger  days  show  forth,  and  the  spirit 
which  lies  behind  the  mask  is  not  an  intellectual  spirit:  it  is  an 
emotional  spirit. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  great  power  of  the  world  —  namely, 
its  emotional  power  —  is  better  expressed  in  a  college  gathering 
than  in  any  other  gathering.  We  speak  of  this  as  an  age  in  which 
mind  is  monarch,  but  I  take  it  for  granted  that,  if  that  is  true, 
mind  is  one  of  those  modern  monarchs  who  reign  but  do  not 
govern.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  world  is  governed  in  every  gen- 
eration by  a  great  House  of  Commons  made  up  of  the  passions; 
and  we  can  only  be  careful  to  see  to  it  that  the  handsome  pas- 
sions are  in  the  majority. 

A  college  body  represents  a  passion,  a  very  handsome  passion, 
to  which  we  should  seek  to  give  greater  and  greater  force  as  the 
generations  go  by  —  a  passion  not  so  much  individual  as  social, 
a  passion  for  the  things  which  live,  for  the  things  which  en- 
lighten, for  the  things  which  bind  men  together  in  unselfish 
companies.  The  love  of  men  for  their  college  is  a  very  ennobling 
love,  because  it  is  a  love  which  expresses  itself  in  so  organic  a 
way,  and  which  delights  to  give  as  a  token  of  its  affection,  for 
its  alma  mater  some  of  those  eternal,  intangible  gifts  which  are 
expressed  only  in  the  spirits  of  men. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  253 

While,  however,  the  institutional  spirit  which  pervades 
our  colleges  is  recognized  by  all,  and  accepted  by  most  as 
vitally  inherent,  it  is  looked  upon  by  not  a  few  as  danger- 
ous in  its  tendencies,  and  in  its  more  extreme  forms  sub- 
versive of  the  highest  ends  of  college  training.  I  take  note 
of  the  essential  criticisms.  The  most  common  and  perhaps 
most  pertinent  criticism  is  to  the  effect  that  the  institu- 
tional spirit  is  institutional  rather  than  educational,  and 
may  become  positively  anti-educational.  One  critic  writing 
in  a  book  review  in  the  "Nation"  declares  flatly,  "As 
long  as  loyalty  to  college  is  considered  a  virtue,  you  will 
get  little  loyalty  to  college  education.  They  are  unalter- 
ably opposed.  Students  cannot  be  taught  to  think  while 
their  minds  are  glued  together.  Shatter  the  virtue  of  loy- 
alty to  your  college  and  in  your  college  and  you  have 
neutralized  the  centripetal  force  which  draws  the  man  to 
a  mediocre  norm."  And  still  more  definitely  an  editorial 
in  the  "Seven  Arts"  affirms  that  the  American  colleges, 
as  regards  the  literary  interests  of  the  country,  and  es- 
pecially the  women's  colleges,  are  not  sending  forth  any- 
thing like  the  number  of  creative  workers  that  would  be 
expected  of  them.  Of  one  woman's  college  in  particular  — 
"write  me  for  the  name  if  you  wish"  —  of  the  very  high- 
est standing,  which  has  sent  forth  some  thousands  of 
graduates  and  post  graduates,  not  one  of  them  has  ever 
entered  upon  any  creative  or  artistic  labor. 

I  am  not  blind  to  the  conditions  which  from  time  to 
time  give  rise  to  strictures  like  these,  nor  do  I  overlook 
the  element  of  truth  in  the  general  criticism  of  which  these 
are  fragments.  Nevertheless  I  believe  that  all  such  criti- 
cism is  based  upon  a  misconception  of  the  function  of  the 
college  in  the  educational  system.  It  is  not  the  supreme 


254  MY  GENERATION 

office  of  education  at  the  period  covered  by  the  college  to 
develop  the  individuality  of  the  student,  but  rather  his 
humanity,  using  this  term  in  its  strict  educational  sense. 
In  this  sense  it  is  more  desirable  that  a  college  student 
shall  be  thoroughly  humanized  than  that  he  shall  be  pre- 
maturely individualized.  The  humanizing  process  consists 
in  the  introduction  of  mind  to  mind  under  mutually  stim- 
ulating conditions,  in  the  give  and  take  of  the  physical 
and  intellectual  life,  in  the  stimulus  of  competition,  in  the 
sense  of  comradeship  in  the  intellectual  adventure  into 
life.  Exception  to  the  value  of  this  process  is  to  be  taken 
in  favor  of  the  well  defined  artistic  temperament.  I  doubt 
if  our  colleges  have  much  to  offer  to  the  must-be  artist 
or  even  to  the  would-be  artist.  Tennyson  said  that  he 
got  nothing  from  Cambridge;  and  yet  Cambridge  had 
doubtless  far  more  to  offer  to  an  incipient  poet  than  to 
one  born  with  an  equal  aptitude  for  the  other  so-called 
fine  arts.  The  distinction  appears  when  one  contrasts  the 
college  experience  of  Tennyson  with  that  of  most  of  the 
great  parliamentary  orators.  Apart,  however,  from  those  of 
the  artistic  temperament  whom  the  college  can  seldom 
reach  to  advantage,  there  are  those,  very  few  in  compari- 
son, who  can  profit  at  once  by  the  individualizing  process. 
They  are  ready  for  contact,  not  with  or  through  others, 
but  altogether  by  themselves  with  those  high  and  separat- 
ing subjects  which  lie  within  the  range  of  college  study; 
and  for  their  ambitions  and  capacities  provision  should 
be  made.  An  unsatisfied  seeker  after  truth  of  any  kind, 
who  outruns  his  fellows  but  finds  no  welcoming  compan- 
ionship among  teachers  and  guides,  is  a  sad  sight.  I  repeat 
the  necessity  for  provision  for  the  man  of  exceptional 
individuality  in  our  colleges.   But  this  type  of  student 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  255 

does  not  constitute  the  problem  of  college  training.  The 
concern  for  individuality  usually  expresses  itself  in  some 
undue  concession  to  a  partial  or  prematurely  specialized 
talent,  with  the  result  to  the  individuals  so  treated  that 
they  are  intellectually  stranded  in  later  life;  they  fail  to 
make  connection  with  men  and  with  events.  They  are  not 
for  the  most  part  those  who  best  meet  the  tests  of  the 
professional  schools,  or  even  of  the  specialized  graduate 
school.  Experience  has  shown  beyond  dispute  that  the 
higher  education  at  the  college  stage  is  best  mediated 
through  institutions;  and  the  institutional  process  is  not 
set  directly  to  the  task  of  individualizing  the  student  mind. 
It  by  no  means  follows,  however,  that  the  principle  of 
associated  life  and  activity  upon  which  the  college  rests, 
cannot  be  made  a  stimulus  to  personal  effort  in  scholar- 
ship, in  some  respects  the  most  powerful  which  can  be 
applied.  I  believe  that  there  are  incentives  and  com- 
pulsions in  the  spirit  of  a  college  which  have  not  as  yet 
been  put  to  the  highest  uses.  College  sentiment  has  left 
scholarship  too  much  to  the  individual.  But  the  individual 
impulse  to  scholarship  has  not  proved  strong  enough  in 
the  average  student  to  reach  any  high  result.  The  scholar 
of  the  indi vidua' istic  type,  whether  such  by  instinct  or  by 
persistent  habit,  is  a  comparatively  rare  person.  Accepting 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  rank  as  the  minimum  standard  of  actual 
scholarship,  it  would  not  be  possible  to  assign  more  than 
one  fifth  of  an  ordinary  college  class  to  this  rank,  and  of 
the  number  included  in  this  proportion  probably  one  half 
should  be  rated  as  diligent  students  rather  than  as  scholars. 
But  there  are  very  many  men  in  the  colleges  who  are 
capable  of  reaching  the  results  which  can  be  gained  only 
through  scholarship,  and  who  may  be  expected  to  reach 


256  MY  GENERATION 

these  results,  provided  it  can  be  made  clear  to  them  that 
scholarship  is  one  of  those  indisputable  things  which  a 
college  expects  a  man  to  contribute  as  his  part  in  the  dis- 
charge of  the  common  obligation.  The  spur  of  competition 
is  purely  individualistic.  The  sense  of  accountability  is 
part  of  the  social  sense.  It  may  be  incorporated  into  the 
spirit  of  a  college  and  applied  where  the  stimulus  is  most 
needed.  To-day  the  men  who  most  need  this  special 
stimulus  are  the  strong  and  capable  men  who  are  in  danger 
of  making  a  miscalculation  in  regard  to  college  values. 
From  the  strictly  individualistic  point  of  view,  the  invest- 
ment of  power  in  scholarship  may  not  seem  to  them  to  be 
the  most  profitable  investment.  Let  the  question  be 
changed.  Is  there  any  other  investment  of  power,  open  to 
a  college  student,  so  profitable  to  his  college,  so  profitable 
to  his  country? 

In  view  of  the  failure  of  the  purely  individualistic  ap- 
peal for  scholarship,  I  believe  that  the  appeal  should  be 
urged  increasingly  through  the  institutional  or  "  corporate  " 
spirit  of  the  colleges.  This  appeal  is  wider  and  more  un- 
deniable. The  really  significant  task  of  the  college  is  to 
make  the  strong  and  capable  men  under  its  training 
realize  in  time  the  social  value  of  scholarship.  Devices 
for  quickening  the  lazy,  or  for  helping  the  weak,  are  mere 
matters  of  college  discipline.  The  rescue  of  a  strong  man 
from  the  misuse,  or  from  the  under-use  of  his  power,  is 
the  most  satisfying  and  usually  the  most  rewarding  of  all 
college  endeavor.  Every  such  man,  who  takes  on  the  habit 
of  mind  of  the  scholar,  gives  reality  and  incentive  to  the 
pursuit  of  scholarship.  He  brings  the  spirit  of  the  college 
to  bear  upon  the  issue.  I  am  well  aware  that  the  tradition 
of  the  American  college  does  not  point  the  way  to  indi- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  257 

vidualistic  scholarship.  Dr.  Lake  intimates  as  much  in 
regard  to  the  university  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  "Satur- 
day Review"  has  made  a  like  admission  in  regard  to  the 
English  universities:  "The  main  intention  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  is  not  even  scholarship  and  high  thinking, 
though  without  these  we  truly  believe  that  the  nation  will 
perish.  Their  main  intention  is  to  encourage  a  spirit  among 
the  young  men  of  England  which  will  make  them  in- 
stinctively conscious  of  a  call  to  account  very  strictly  to 
the  world  for  such  talent  or  power  as  a  man  may  have." 

This  exposition  of  the  ground  and  motive  of  English 
scholarship,  including  the  honor  system,  is  worthy  of 
special  note,  for  it  discloses  the  normal  appeal  of  the  col- 
lege in  behalf  of  scholarship.  The  appeal  is  frankly  and 
broadly  human,  not  individualistic.  It  may  seem  more 
distinctly  moral  than  intellectual.  I  think  that  it  is;  but 
for  that  very  reason  it  reaches  most  directly  and  most 
effectively  "the  mind  of  the  college." 

Another  criticism,  less  significant  but  not  to  be  over- 
looked, is  to  the  effect  that  the  institutional  spirit  tends 
to  provincialism.  It  unduly  magnifies  the  small  college. 
It  detaches  the  academic  from  the  public  mind. 

The  danger  to  the  small  college  from  provincialism  is 
obvious.  The  small  college  creates  a  certain  intensity  of 
view  which  is  supported  by  an  equal  intensity  of  character. 
But  in  this  concentration  of  institutional  life  there  may 
lie,  and  usually  does  lie,  a  degree  of  intellectual  and  moral 
force  quite  out  of  proportion  to  numerical  size  or  to  finan- 
cial resources.  What  Mr.  Bryce  has  said  in  regard  to  the 
small  nations  applies  with  like  reasoning  to  the  small  col- 
leges. In  fact  he  has  made  the  application  of  his  thought 
to  them.  The  struggle  incident  to  poverty,  the  extra  effort 


258  MY  GENERATION 

required  to  counterbalance  the  lack  of  abundant  instruc- 
tion or  equipment,  often  the  remoteness  from  stimulating 
associations,  which  necessitates  the  larger  use  of  self- 
contained  powers,  seem  to  produce  a  type  of  academic 
character  of  marked  value  to  the  public  life  of  the  country, 
and  not  infrequently  of  striking  originality.  The  determin- 
ation of  the  representative  small  college  to  reach  and  main- 
tain the  academic  standard  is  proof  of  the  enlarging 
effect  of  its  institutional  spirit.  In  place  of  expansion, 
there  is  often  noticeable  a  remarkable  insistence  upon 
technical  standards.  The  small  college  may  be  small  under 
temporary  restricting  conditions,  but  it  is  usually  intent 
upon  making  connection  with  the  standardized  academic 
system.  There  was  more  than  humor  in  the  reported  say- 
ing of  the  director  of  a  small  railroad,  who  wanted  to 
connect  with  the  New  York  Central  in  the  days  of  Com- 
modore Vanderbilt.  To  the  rather  contemptuous  question 
of  the  Commodore,  "How  long  is  your  little  road?"  he 
had  the  ready  answer,  "What  does  that  matter?  It's  just 
as  wide  as  yours  is."  Underneath  the  humor  of  the  situ- 
ation and  apparent  to  the  Commodore,  was  the  essential 
fact  about  the  road  —  it  could  connect,  it  had  the  stand- 
ard gauge. 

Of  the  assumed  detachment  of  the  academic  from  the 
public  mind,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  make  serious  mention 
at  the  time  I  am  now  writing.  The  American  college  has 
never  stood  in  the  public  esteem  for  pedantry,  but  there 
have  been  times  when  it  has  borne  the  burden  of  its 
so-called  inutilities.  Those  times  were  past  even  before 
the  events  preceding  the  War.  The  college  curriculum 
turned  more  and  more  toward  affairs.  College  men  met 
in  the  theories  of    the  classroom  many  of   the  scientific 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  259 

and  economic  problems  of  business  and  industrialism, 
before  they  were  confronted  by  them  in  their  practical 
details.  Since  the  Government  has  laid  its  hand  upon  all 
available  constructive  or  executive  talent  in  the  country, 
Washington  has  become  the  meeting  place  on  equal  terms 
of  the  business  manager  and  the  academic  expert.  Perhaps 
no  discovery  has  been  more  agreeable  to  the  public  than 
the  practical  capacity  of  the  non-expert  members  of  the 
college  faculties.  The  appointment,  for  example,  of  the 
Professor  of  Classical  Philology  at  Dartmouth  as  the 
Executive  Secretary  of  the  Council  of  National  Defense 
for  New  Hampshire  has  been  in  no  way  exceptional. 

I  do  not  know  of  any  present  detachment  of  the  aca- 
demic from  the  public  mind  of  sufficient  account  to  invite 
criticism,  unless  it  may  be  found  under  the  guise  of  a  cult 
which  is  coming  to  be  known  as  "intellectualism."  The 
term  itself,  when  relieved  of  its  aspirations  to  superiority, 
stands  for  a  legitimate  and  fine  expression  of  the  academic 
mind  at  its  best  —  the  absence  of  prejudice  and  sentimen- 
tality, freedom  from  partisanship,  moral  as  well  as  intel- 
lectual independence,  a  certain  high  and  undaunted  spirit 
of  adventure,  and  above  all,  loyalty  to  the  pure  light  of 
reason.  The  present  affectation  of  the  term  is  by  no  means 
a  distinctive  academic  vice.  "Intellectuals"  so-called  or 
self-styled  are  much  in  evidence.  There  is  a  very  consid- 
erable appropriation  of  the  name  to  identify  those  who 
hold  "advanced"  positions  on  the  shifting  intellectual 
frontier,  and  who  represent  to  themselves  and  to  those 
likeminded  some  fancied  enlightenment.  In  some  cases, 
they  belie  the  name  they  assume  by  advocating  theories 
charged  with  sentiment  rather  than  informed  by  reason. 
The  craving  for  the  intellectual  thrill  is  simply  intellectual 


260  MY  GENERATION 

emotionalism.  Unfortunately,  the  academic  mind  is  not 
altogether  proof  against  this  new  style  of  intellectual 
provincialism,  but  I  doubt  if  it  will  long  survive  in  our 
colleges  and  universities,  where  the  natural  and  free  ex- 
pression of  the  intellectual  life  is  fatal,  in  time,  to  all  affec- 
tations or  assumptions  of  superiority. 

The  most  serious  criticism,  amounting  at  times  to  a 
charge  in  the  case  of  some  specified  college,  is  that  colleges 
as  institutions  are  subject  to  the  dangers  and  evils  of 
institutionalism.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  charge  in 
some  form  has  occasional  justification,  or  that  there  are 
constant  liabilities  in  the  institutional  development  of 
colleges.  But  it  is  on  the  whole  remarkable  that  the  pro- 
gress of  collegiate  education  has  shown  so  few  examples 
of  well  defined  institutionalism.  Corrective  tendencies 
have  been  continually  at  work  from  within,  and  often 
corrective  measures  have  been  applied  with  breadth  and 
courage.  I  recall  some  of  the  greater  dangers  and  the  means 
of  escape  or  of  prevention.  This  review  is  confined  to  the 
independent  colleges  and  universities.  The  liabilities  of 
the  state  colleges  and  universities  are  for  the  most  part 
of  a  different  sort. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  it  was  a  dangerous  experiment 
to  entrust  arbitrary  power  (under  charter  limitations)  in 
perpetuity  to  a  self-perpetuating  body.  But  the  founders 
of  the  early  colleges  followed  without  hesitation  the  usage 
of  their  time.  Extraordinary  powers  were  conferred  upon 
the  corporate  members,  involving  not  only  the  control  of 
all  properties,  but  the  sole  authority  to  elect,  and  if  deemed 
necessary  "to  displace  or  discharge"  any  or  all  officers  of 
instruction  and  government.  It  is  to  the  credit  and  honor 
of  the  public  sense  of  integrity  and  justice  which  then  ob- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  261 

tained,  that  so  dangerous  a  system  could  be  carried  on  for 
one  or  more  centuries  with  so  little  friction,  or  miscar- 
riage of  justice,  or  loss  of  self-respect  among  those  under 
authority.  It  is  still  further  to  the  credit  of  these  self- 
perpetuating  Boards  of  Control  that  they  have  so  far 
relinquished  voluntarily  such  exclusive  exercise  of  these 
arbitrary  powers  as  they  have  been  able  to  divest  them- 
selves of,  without  violation  of  their  chartered  obligations. 
The  transfer  within  the  last  generation  to  so  large  a  degree, 
of  the  governing  function  of  the  colleges  to  their  alumni, 
through  the  device  of  alumni  representation,  has  done 
very  much  to  insure  the  liberality  and  freedom  of  college 
government.  There  remains,  however,  the  question  of  the 
complete  and  responsible  adjustment  of  faculties  to  col- 
lege administration.  The  advance  in  the  recognition  of 
faculty  rights,  both  of  individuals  and  of  the  general  body, 
has  been  very  marked.  It  now  seems  to  be  in  the  way  of 
reaching  at  least  a  working  adjustment.  But  the  question 
of  rights  is  really  subordinate  to  that  of  responsibilities, 
and  no  satisfactory  solution  of  this  question  is  yet  in  view. 
In  consequence  the  present  relation  of  faculties  to  gov- 
erning boards  is  unseemly.  It  rests  upon  the  basis  of 
separate  and  of  possible  antagonistic  interests.  Professors' 
"unions"  exist  for  defensive,  or  possibly  aggressive  pur- 
poses. They  recognize  the  principle  of  "class  conscious- 
ness." They  organize  the  professional  element  in  academic 
life  against  the  already  organized  institutional  element. 
Doubtless  this  state  of  things  brings  about,  as  I  have  said, 
for  the  time  being  a  practical  working  adjustment,  but 
from  the  nature  of  the  case  it  cannot  be  permanent.  The 
question  of  rights,  that  is,  should  not  be  allowed  to  settle 
into  the  most  sensitive  question  connected  with  college 


262  MY  GENERATION 

administration.  The  only  proper  question  which  can  be 
associated  in  any  form  with  administration  is  that  of  per- 
sonal or  official  responsibility.  To  bring  the  status  of  pro- 
fessors up  to  this  level  the  initiative  must  be  taken  by 
the  body  which  now  holds  the  ultimate  responsibility.  It 
is  confessedly  a  greater  problem  to  incorporate  faculties 
into  the  responsibilities  of  administration  than  it  was  to 
incorporate  alumni  into  that  particular  relation,  for  the 
question  of  professional  rights  is  not  involved  in  the  case 
of  the  latter.  But  the  problem  is  in  no  sense  insoluble.  And 
whenever  a  suitable  way  is  found  to  confer  upon  faculties 
a  fair  share  of  the  rights  of  responsibility  for  the  general 
government  of  colleges,  I  believe  that  contention  for  all 
other  rights  real  or  assumed  will  cease  to  vex  the  academic 
world.  There  can  be  no  possible  academic  freedom  beyond 
that  which  is  implicit  in  academic  responsibility. 

The  colonial,  and  in  general  the  historic,  colleges  have 
either  escaped  or  outgrown  the  dangers  of  ecclesiastical 
institutionalism.  I  think  that  this  is  more  remarkable 
than  that  they  should  have  been  able  to  relax  the  grasp 
of  the  close  corporation.  The  religious  motive  was  so 
dominant  at  the  outset,  and  the  ecclesiastical  environ- 
ment so  close,  that  a  different  result  might  have  been 
expected.  And  yet  it  must  be  remembered  that  great  as 
was  the  hold  of  religious  authority  there  was  very  great 
jealousy  in  behalf  of  religious  freedom.  Dartmouth,  so  far 
as  I  recall,  owing  to  reasons  already  stated,  was  the  only 
one  of  the  earlier  colleges  to  prescribe  that  the  majority 
of  the  governing  Board  should  be  laymen,  but  the  guar- 
antee of  religious  toleration  was  inserted  in  all  the  charters 
of  the  contemporary  colleges,  and  was  usually  set  forth 
in  very  explicit  terms.  The  tending  away  from  ecclesiasti- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  263 

cism  has  been  one  of  the  marked  features  of  academic  de- 
velopment. Of  the  early  colleges  which  had  their  origin  in 
denominational  enterprise  all  now  report  themselves  as 
"non-sectarian"  unless  required  by  their  charters  to 
maintain  the  original  denominational  control.  And  in  the 
case  of  these  few  colleges,  it  should  be  remarked  that  for 
the  very  reason  of  nominal  sectarian  control,  they  take 
unusual  pains  to  make  their  actual  non-sectarianism  evi- 
dent. Sectarianism  is  a  characteristic  of  the  newer  colleges 
which  must  for  the  time  rely  upon  denominational  sup- 
port for  their  existence.  Their  sectarianism  does  not  repre- 
sent the  spirit  of  propaganda.  In  due  time  these  colleges 
will  doubtless  become  non-sectarian  in  the  same  way  in 
which  the  older  colleges  of  like  religious  origin  have  passed 
into  that  estate.  It  is  seen  that  sectarianism  does  not  con- 
duce to  academic  religion.  Traditions  may  be  cherished, 
forms  of  worship  preserved,  and  the  spirit  of  the  inherited 
faith  guarded,  but  academic  religion  must  have  freedom 
and  breadth.  And  these  qualities  are  practically  insured 
in  the  religious  life  of  all  colleges.  Whatever  difficulties  the 
religious  problem  may  present  in  college  administration, 
the  essential  difficulty  does  not  arise  out  of  sectarianism 
or  ecclesiasticism. 

The  danger  that  the  colleges  and  universities  may  be- 
come "institutionalized"  through  wealth  is  yet  to  be 
tested.  The  liability  of  such  a  result  is  comparatively 
recent.  The  foundations  of  great  endowment  at  the  out- 
set, like  Leland  Stanford  and  the  University  of  Chicago, 
fall  practically  within  the  twentieth  century.  Johns 
Hopkins  led  the  way  (in  1876)  among  the  institutions 
highly  endowed  at  the  start,  with  its  relatively  modest 
foundation  of  $3,000,000.  Harvard,  still  the  wealthiest 


264  MY  GENERATION 

among  the  universities,  with  the  possible  exception  of 
Columbia,  at  a  present  valuation  of  $34,000,000  in  pro- 
ductive endowments,  was  rated  at  $5,000,000  in  1889. 
The  advance  of  Yale  from  less  than  $1,000,000  at  that 
date  to  over  $21,000,000  at  the  present  time  is  perhaps 
the  most  rapid  of  any.  The  era  of  great  endowments  falls 
within  the  last  three  decades.  Previous  to  1890,  the  amount 
of  productive  funds  held  by  all  of  the  New  England  col- 
leges and  universities  was  less  than  $12,000,000;  the 
present  amount  is  about  $100,000,000. 

This  increase  in  the  holdings  of  the  colleges  and  uni- 
versities has  been  so  rapid  that  any  moral  result  is  con- 
cealed in  the  very  process  of  acquisition.  We  speak  of  the 
expansion  of  the  colleges,  but  hardly  as  yet  of  their  cap- 
italization. But  the  time  is  not  far  off  when  this  recent 
development  must  be  considered  in  its  educational  tend- 
encies and  effects.  Some  of  our  educational  institutions 
under  private  endowment  have  already  become  in  a  sub- 
sidiary way  very  considerable  financial  institutions. 

There  are  two  tendencies  in  the  financial  development 
of  colleges  and  universities  which  are  already  sufficiently 
noticeable  to  suggest  the  need  of  more  watchful  observa- 
tion. First,  the  tendency  to  transform  the  governing 
Boards  into  financial  boards.  With  the  rapid  increase  of 
endowments  this  result  is  inevitable  —  at  least  to  the 
extent  of  insuring  their  proper  care.  The  finances  of  a 
college  must  be  wisely  administered,  and  in  these  days 
few  men  apart  from  financiers  are  capable  of  making 
suitable  investments.  But  the  indirect  effect  of  this  change 
in  the  personnel  of  the  governing  boards  is  to  make 
the  alumni  and  other  friends  of  a  college  think  of  this 
new  obligation  as  their  chief  function.  The  criticism  has 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  265 

already  been  passed  upon  the  nominations  made  by  the 
alumni  of  some  of  our  universities,  that  they  represent 
bankers  quite  out  of  proportion  to  educators,  —  a  criti- 
cism which  recalls  the  question,  partially  discussed,  as  to 
the  further  responsible  use  which  can  be  made  of  faculties 
in  shaping  the  policy  of  the  college.  The  educational  and 
financial  policies  are  really  inseparable.  It  is  doubtful  if 
the  demands  of  the  educational  can  be  met  through  dele- 
gated powers.  To  repeat  what  I  have  already  said,  I 
think  that  the  way  must  be  found  to  satisfy  both  of  these 
responsibilities  through  one  and  the  same  board,  as  was 
practically  the  case  before  the  financial  responsibility 
assumed  such  large  proportions. 

A  second  tendency  is  to  be  seen  in  the  growing  reliance 
of  some  colleges  upon  educational  boards  of  trust  for 
financial  aid.  Probably  most  colleges  which  allow  them- 
selves this  use  of  what  may  be  termed  professional  financial 
aid  would  regard  the  use  as  altogether  exceptional,  to  be 
accepted  in  an  emergency,  or  to  be  employed  as  a  stimulus 
toward  raising  some  large  fund.  But  some  colleges  seem 
to  be  acquiring  the  habit  of  such  reliance.  These  boards 
of  trust  are  assumed  to  be  free  from  all  controlling  in- 
fluences over  the  colleges.  It  would  seem  difficult,  how- 
ever, to  dissociate  influence  altogether  from  money  given 
in  large  amount,  or  in  repeated  benefaction.  The  intro- 
duction of  the  boards  of  financial  aid  into  the  educational 
system,  with  large  capital  and  highly  organized,  is  an 
innovation  upon  the  financial  method  of  the  self-govern- 
ing colleges. 

It  should  be  said  that  the  Carnegie  Pension  Fund 
(Foundation  for  the  Advancement  of  Teaching)  has  a 
partial  justification  in  this  regard  in  the  fact  that  it  is  so 


266  MY  GENERATION 

largely  under  the  control  of  representatives  of  the  colleges 
and  universities  which  are  the  objects  of  its  beneficence. 
But  I  think  that  it  was  a  relief  to  many  when  it  was  pro- 
posed to  operate  the  fund  on  an  insurance  basis,  after 
being  released  from  present  obligations.  I  felt  that  Dr. 
Pritchett  deserved  great  credit  for  the  courage  and  sa- 
gacity involved  in  this  proposal.  When  the  question  of 
applying  to  the  Carnegie  Foundation  was  before  the 
Dartmouth  Trustees,  I  did  not  vote  for  the  application, 
but  I  did  not  oppose  it,  as  I  was  just  leaving  the  presi- 
dency, and  could  not  mature  the  plan  which  I  was  de- 
vising as  a  substitute.  I  also  hesitated  to  oppose  it  because 
I  had  reason  to  believe  that  a  general  pension  fund  would 
be  more  agreeable  to  some  of  the  faculty  than  a  college 
pension  fund.  But  I  regretted  none  the  less  the  enrollment 
of  the  College  among  the  beneficiaries  of  the  Fund.  I 
thought  it  a  matter  of  honorable  congratulation  that  the 
Trustees  of  Brown  were  necessitated  by  the  charter  of  the 
university  to  forego  this  aid,  and  to  maintain  at  this  par- 
ticular point,  though  at  much  cost,  their  entire  financial 
independence. 

The  plain  fact  is,  that  it  is  just  because  our  colleges  and 
universities  are  institutions,  that  they  have  the  liabilities 
which  belong  to  all  such  reservoirs  of  power.  They  must 
be  guarded  from  the  dangers  which  inhere  in  their  con- 
stantly augmenting  strength.  Hence  in  college  adminis- 
tration there  is  as  much  need  of  moral  sensitiveness  as  of 
intellectual  alertness.  But  the  greater  danger  to  our  col- 
leges and  universities  does  not  lie  in  any  tendencies  to  their 
misuse  as  educational  institutions,  but  rather  in  the  con- 
stant temptation  to  their  insufficient  or  inferior  use.  The 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  267 

emphasis  may  fall  upon  the  wrong  place  or  be  suffered  to 
rest  too  long  in  what  had  been  the  right  place;  a  timely 
intellectual  or  moral  enthusiasm  may  not  be  carried  to  a 
legitimate  result;  the  opportunity  may  be  allowed  to  pass 
for  the  sure  conservation  of  institutional  power  through 
its  expansion.  The  function  of  the  university,  for  example, 
in  its  relation  to  the  past  has  been  defined  as  consisting 
in  providing  "the  means  by  which  the  highest  culture  of 
one  generation  is  best  transmitted  to  the  ablest  youth  of 
the  next."  This,  it  seems  to  me,  is  an  insufficient  interpre- 
tation of  the  relation  of  a  university  to  the  past,  and  one 
which  has  often  given  barren  results.  The  great  obligation 
of  the  past  is  not  the  transmission  of  its  culture,  but  the 
transmission  of  its  creative  spirit,  which  may  find  as  an 
imperative  duty  the  task  of  recreating  its  culture,  which 
in  turn  may  necessitate  the  destroying  of  more  than  it 
may  preserve.  In  like  manner  the  attempt  to  utilize  college 
enthusiasm  may  go  no  further  than  to  arouse  "college 
spirit";  it  may  utterly  fail  to  develop  that  fine  esprit  de 
corps  which,  as  Mr.  Wilson  says,  is  the  product  of  the 
"handsome  passions,"  that  in  their  free  play  can  alone 
guarantee  nobility  of  thought  and  action.  Or  still  further, 
an  institution  may  subject  itself  to  the  humiliation  of 
intellectual  loss,  or  to  the  chagrin  consequent  upon  any 
sense  of  intellectual  waste,  when  it  is  unable  to  put  a 
right  valuation  upon  the  new  subject-matter  of  the  higher 
education,  or  is  unable  to  organize  it  into  the  "college 
discipline." 

I  am  aware  that  what  I  am  now  writing  may  seem  like 
reflections  growing  out  of  the  experience  of  the  years  of 
college  administration.  Doubtless  the  feeling  which  per- 
vades these  words  is  enhanced  by  my  experiences  and 


268  MY  GENERATION 

observations.  But  it  was  the  very  sentiment  regarding  the 
institutional  life  of  a  college  which  I  am  now  expressing, 
that  was  the  convincing  and  assuring  motive  in  my  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Dartmouth  presidency.  The  "situation" 
with  its  risks  and  possibilities  was  as  clear  then  as  it  now 
appears  in  retrospect.  Viewed  in  the  light  of  institutional 
possibilities  the  opportunity  was  plain,  albeit  a  venture  of 
faith.  Professor  Foster,  head  of  the  department  of  history, 
has  told  me  that  about  the  time  of  the  close  of  my  ad- 
ministration he  called,  in  an  examination  on  the  colonial 
period,  for  a  comparison  between  the  early  history  of  the 
college  and  its  latest  development.  One  student  remarked 
incidentally,  comparing  Dr.  Wheelock  and  myself,  that 
both  "were  gamblers  by  instinct."  I  was  as  much 
pleased  as  amused  with  the  insight  of  the  student.  Dr. 
Wheelock  certainly  took,  according  to  the  view  of  the 
average  man,  a  great  chance  when  he  ventured  on  his 
errand  into  this  northern  wilderness.  My  errand  was 
undertaken  under  very  different  conditions,  but  measured 
by  the  definite  object  to  be  achieved  which  was  to  de- 
termine its  success  or  failure,  this  latter  venture  of  faith 
had  in  it  to  the  ordinary,  and  to  the  interested  onlooker, 
a  large  element  of  chance.  This  object  was  nothing  less 
than  to  attempt  to  give  to  the  College  its  possible  in- 
stitutional development  —  to  develop  it  to  its  full  insti- 
tutional capacity.  The  colleges  with  which  Dartmouth 
had  been  most  intimately  associated  in  its  early  history  — 
Harvard,  Yale,  and  Princeton  —  had  gradually  drawn 
away  in  the  pursuit  of  their  own  educational  ideals.  Har- 
vard and  Yale  had  already  defined  themselves  as  univer- 
sities, and  Princeton  was  taking  steps  to  reach  the  same 
end.  What  further  development  should  Dartmouth  at- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  269 

tempt,  consistent  with  its  traditions,  and  possible  of  real- 
ization? No  alumnus  of  Dartmouth  cherished  the  desire 
to  see  the  College  become  a  university.  Apart  from  the 
adverse  sentiment  which  the  attempt  of  the  State  (in  the 
Dartmouth  College  controversy),  to  convert  the  College 
into  a  university  had  created,  it  was  clearly  seen  that  the 
limitations  of  its  environment  would  make  the  attempt, 
so  far  as  any  satisfactory  result  might  be  concerned,  quite 
impracticable.  But  the  purpose  was  legitimate  and  prac- 
ticable, and  the  opportunity  was  present,  for  Dartmouth 
to  expand  and  to  seek  to  fill  to  the  full  the  college  ideal. 
This  was  the  purpose  entertained,  altogether  distinct  from 
the  ambition  to  realize  the  university  ideal,  but  in  itself 
honorable,  and  satisfying. 

The  means  for  carrying  out  this  purpose,  so  far  as  they 
fell  within  the  province  of  administration,  were  both 
moral  and  material.  To  my  mind  the  emphasis  in  the 
choice  of  means  rested  at  three  points.  First,  Dartmouth 
was  in  a  peculiar  sense  an  historic  college.  Its  history  was 
its  great  asset,  both  moral  and  material.  It  was  necessary 
that  its  history  should  be  capitalized  at  its  full  value.  To 
this  end  the  College  of  the  present  was  to  be  brought  into 
vital  contact  with  the  College  in  its  origin  and  early  de- 
velopment. The  essential  thing  was  to  open  wide  the 
channel  for  the  transmission  of  the  spirit  of  the  College. 
Dartmouth  had  no  advantage  in  the  transmission  of  cul- 
ture. Her  advantage,  and  it  was  very  great,  was  in  the 
well-nigh  unrivaled  possession  of  an  originating  spirit  at 
once  creative,  adventurous,  and  charged  with  spiritual 
power.  The  significance  of  this  heritage  will  appear  in  the 
succeeding  section  of  this  chapter. 

Second,  the  creation  of  a  high  college  sentiment,  not 


270  MY  GENERATION 

mere  college  spirit,  was  essential  to  the  full  institutional 
development  of  the  College.  I  have  placed  much  stress 
upon  the  educational  value  of  the  human  element  during 
the  college  stage.  It  is  of  special  value  in  creating  the  in- 
stitutional spirit  in  constructive  periods.  "The  mind  of 
the  college"  can  be  lifted  at  such  times  above  the  ordinary 
causes  of  enthusiasm  and  set  upon  the  growths  and  ad- 
vancements of  the  college  itself.  Such  periods  produce  a 
fine  community  of  feeling  among  members  of  the  faculty, 
students,  and  alumni.  The  institutional  effect  of  growth 
in  numbers  is  not  to  be  minimized,  but  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  numbers  lies  in  what  they  represent.  Assuming 
quality  as  a  fixed  necessity,  the  most  desirable  result  is  the 
broadening  of  the  constituency  of  a  college.  In  the  present 
case,  the  object  sought  in  the  increase  of  the  student  body 
was  the  nationalization  of  Dartmouth. 

The  third  point  upon  which  emphasis  was  placed  was 
that  any  plan  of  reconstruction  and  expansion  must  be 
commensurate  with  the  existing  opportunity.  This  as 
compared  with  those  already  mentioned  was  the  material 
point,  but  it  involved  the  whole  question  of  educational 
advance.  The  contrast  is  often  drawn  between  teaching 
and  equipment  to  the  disparagement  of  the  latter.  There 
may  be  reason  for  this  disparaging  contrast,  but  it  was 
entirely  out  of  place  in  that  period  of  educational  recon- 
struction which  followed  the  introduction  of  the  sciences 
and  of  the  scientific  method.  Teaching  became  in  large 
degree  a  question  of  equipment.  Colleges  had  to  be  re- 
built. The  college  plant  had  an  educational  value  which 
no' instructor  could  despise.  No  increase  of  salary  could 
make  amends  for  meager  facilities.  Such  was  the  situation 
at  Dartmouth  at  the  beginning  of  the  period  of  recon- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  271 

struction  and  expansion.  It  was  altogether  an  educational 
crisis.  Next  to  a  spirit  of  hospitality  toward  the  new  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  higher  education  was  the  necessity  of 
making  adequate  provision  for  it;  and  this  demand,  when 
met,  necessitated  in  turn  the  rehabilitation  of  the  material 
of  the  older  discipline. 

I  will  not  anticipate  what  is  to  be  said  more  in  detail  as 
I  describe  the  modernizing  process  which  went  on  at 
Dartmouth,  but  I  may  fitly  say  at  this  point  that  I  quickly 
became  aware  of  the  dynamic  force  latent  in  the  College, 
as  I  sought  to  bring  it  up  to  its  full  institutional  capacity, 
and  I  may  repeat  what  I  have  already  strongly  urged,  that 
college  administration  has  to  do  with  spiritual  quite  as 
much  as  with  material  forces.  The  college  administrator, 
whatever  may  be  his  other  qualifications,  must  be  able  to 
recognize  the  meaning  and  to  feel  the  force  of  the  "cor- 
porate consciousness  of  the  college." 

n 

The  Traditions  of  Dartmouth 

"  I  would  have  an  Inscription  over  the  door  of  your  Building  —  Founded  by 
Eleazar  Wheelock:  Re-founded  by  Daniel  Webster."  Judge  Hopkinson  to  Pres- 
ident Brown  in  a  letter  announcing  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  the 
Dartmouth  College  Case.  (Inscribed  on  Webster  Hall.) 

In  contrast  with  the  educational  foundations  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  established  under 
the  stimulus  of  the  scientific  spirit,  those  of  the  eighteenth 
century  seem  to  have  been  dominated  by  other  than 
strictly  educational  motives.  The  dominating  influences 
of  this  century  were  religious  and  political.  Dartmouth  dif- 
fered in  no  wise  from  the  colleges  of  this  or  an  earlier  date 
in  respect  to  the  general  influences  affecting  the  higher 
education,  but  it  differed  from   them  widely  in  the  cir- 


272  MY  GENERATION 

cumstances  in  which  these  influences  were  operative.  The 
religious  motive  not  only  acted  with  peculiar  intensity  in 
the  inception  of  Dartmouth,  but  it  gave  to  the  movement 
a  certain  adventurous  character.  Dartmouth  was  by  dis- 
tinction a  pioneer  college  —  a  religious  venture  into  an 
untried  field  of  education  as  well  as  into  a  remote  region. 
All  the  other  colleges  were  within  or  near  the  existing 
centers  of  population. 

Dartmouth  was  "a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness"  to 
the  denizens  of  the  wilderness.  But  it  was  because  of  this 
separateness  of  object  and  remoteness  of  place  that  its 
"voice"  was  heard  so  far  off  —  in  the  streets  of  London, 
in  the  churches  throughout  Great  Britain,  at  the  court  of 
the  king.  The  fortune  of  Wheelock's  Indian  School,  the 
incipient  college,  bearing  with  it  the  fortune  of  the  in- 
domitable and  intrepid  Wheelock,  constitutes  "the  ro- 
mance of  Dartmouth."  It  gave,  as  I  have  said,  to  the 
founding  of  the  College  the  character  of  religious  adven- 
ture; and  as  such  it  stamped  upon  the  College  the  mark  of 
the  adventurous  quite  as  much  as  of  the  religious.  Dart- 
mouth has  not  retained  above  other  colleges  of  its  genera- 
tion the  religious  spirit,  but  it  has  retained  I  think  some 
of  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  its  adventurous  origin. 

Dartmouth  differed  from  the  other  colleges  in  another 
very  important  circumstance.  Within  fifty  years  from  its 
founding  it  was  obliged  to  pass  through  a  struggle  for 
its  legal  existence.  The  reestablishment  of  its  chartered 
rights  which  had  been  in  jeopardy,  has  been  fitly  termed 
its  refounding.  The  circumstance  attending  the  refounding 
was  altogether  of  another  character  from  that  attending 
its  founding,  and  produced  an  entirely  different  effect.  It 
marked  the  sharp  transition  from  a  religious  to  a  legal 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  273 

environment.  It  is  difficult  to  estimate  which  circum- 
stance had  the  greater  effect  upon  the  institutional  life  of 
the  College.  But  the  influence  of  the  latter  circumstance 
was  no  more  strictly  educational  than  that  of  the  former. 
The  legal  contention  brought  the  College  into  close  rela- 
tion to  the  various  chartered  interests  of  the  country,  not 
only  educational  but  to  those  involving  property  rights. 
It  served  to  nationalize  the  College.  And  it  added,  not 
immediately  but  in  due  time,  the  reputation  of  Mr. 
Webster  to  its  vital  assets. 

The  founding  and  the  refounding  of  Dartmouth  are  in 
themselves  events  of  such  unusual  interest  in  the  history 
of  educational  foundations,  they  represent  such  diverse 
influences,  and  they  are  associated  with  men  so  wide 
apart  as  Wheelock  and  Webster,  but  of  such  unusual 
quality  and  so  entirely  one  in  their  relation  to  the  College, 
that  I  dwell  somewhat  in  detail  upon  these  beginnings  of 
Dartmouth,  especially  upon  the  services  rendered  by  its 
founder  and  refounder. 

To  understand  the  educational  bearing  of  the  religious 
motive  that  actuated  WTheelock,  and  that  created  the 
atmosphere  in  which  he  was  able  to  develop  his  plans 
and  carry  on  his  work,  we  must  take  due  account  of  that 
wide  and  deep  spiritual  movement  which  pervaded  Eng- 
land and  America  during  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  remarkable  fact  about  this  movement,  more 
remarkable  even  than  its  intensity,  was  its  scope.  It 
reached  out  beyond  the  bounds  of  purely  religious  con- 
cerns into  the  social,  philanthropic,  and  even  political 
interests  of  the  times.  In  his  "History  of  England  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century"  (vol.  2,  chap,  ix)  Lecky  passes  this 
judgment  upon  the  scope  of  the  movement: 


274  MY  GENERATION 

Although  the  career  of  the  elder  Pitt  and  the  splendid  vic- 
tories by  land  and  sea  that  were  won  during  his  ministry  form 
unquestionably  the  most  dazzling  episodes  in  the  reign  of  George 
II,  they  must  yield,  I  think,  in  real  importance 'to  that  religious 
revolution  which  shortly  before  had  been  begun  in  England  by 
the  preaching  of  the  Wesleys  and  of  Whitefield.  The  creation  of 
a  large,  powerful,  and  active  sect,  extending  over  both  hemi- 
spheres and  numbering  many  millions  of  souls  was  but  one  of 
its  consequences.  It  also  exercised  a  profound  and  lasting  in- 
fluence upon  the  spirit  of  the  Established  Church,  upon  the 
amount  and  distribution  of  the  moral  forces  of  the  nation,  and 
even  upon  the  course  of  its  political  history. 

The  religious  life  of  Wheelock  was  not  the  outcome  of 
this  revival.  It  had  an  independent  origin  and  its  own 
personal  development.  Wheelock  was  not  a  convert  or 
disciple  of  the  religious  leaders  in  England;  he  was  their 
contemporary.  His  student  life  at  Yale  coincided  with  that 
of  the  Wesleys  at  Oxford,  and  preceded  by  a  little  that 
of  Whitefield;  but  he  sympathized  with  their  religious 
aims  and  was  prepared  to  welcome  Whitefield  and  to 
cooperate  with  him  on  his  visits  to  this  country  —  a 
friendship  and  cooperative  service  which  were  more  than 
repaid  by  Whitefield.  Wheelock 's  Indian  School  was  well 
under  way  at  the  time  of  Whitefield's  first  visit  to  this 
country,  and  at  once  awakened  his  interest.  He  raised 
considerable  sums  of  money  for  its  support  in  New  York 
and  Philadelphia,  and  suggested  to  Wheelock  the  plan  of 
sending  Samson  Occom,  the  first  fruits  of  the  school,  to 
England  to  raise  funds  for  its  support.  It  was  through 
Whitefield  that  Wheelock  was  brought  into  personal  re- 
lations by  correspondence  and  through  his  agents,  with 
Lord  Dartmouth  and  those  members  of  the  Established 
Church  who  were  identified  with  the  evangelical  revival, 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  275 

and  whose  minds  were  as  much  stirred  by  the  missionary 
enterprises  associated  with  it,  into  which  Wheelock's  work 
among  the  Indians  fitted  in  a  most  timely  way,  as  they 
were  by  the  greater  secular  events  of  the  time.  The  fre- 
quent reference  in  the  correspondence  between  Wheelock 
and  Lord  Dartmouth  and  other  London  patrons  to  the 
"Kingdom  of  God"  was  no  expression  of  religious  cant, 
but  rather  of  a  most  real  and  vital  interest  in  what  they 
believed  to  be  the  greatest  matter  of  human  concern.  In 
the  light  of  these  facts,  the  statement  in  Chase's  History 
of  Dartmouth  seems  to  be  entirely  justified  that  "without 
the  active  assistance  of  Whitefield  and  his  friends  it  would 
not  have  been  possible  for  Wheelock  to  develop  and  carry 
out  his  extensive  plans.  Nothing  therefore  is  truer  than 
that  Dartmouth  College  is  peculiarly  a  child  of  the  Great 
Revival." 

What  is  termed  the  romance  of  Dartmouth  is  in  truth 
a  spiritual  romance.  It  began  in  the  appeal  of  the  idea 
embodied  in  Wheelock's  Indian  School  to  the  spiritual 
imagination  of  the  Mother  Country.  It  took  shape  and 
color  in  the  visit  of  Samson  Occom  to  England,  where  he 
was  received  not  only  with  curious  interest,  but  with 
ardent  sympathy  and  eager  cooperation,  as  evidenced 
in  the  subscription  of  ten  thousand  pounds  in  behalf  of 
the  school,  the  list  headed  by  His  Majesty  with  a  sub- 
scription of  two  hundred  pounds,  and  containing  the 
names  of  three  thousand  individuals  and  churches.1  The 
romantic  character  of  the  origin  of  the  College  appears 
more  clearly  in  the  fact  that  as  the  mirage  of  the  higher 
education  of  the  Indians  disappears,  there  rise  in  place  of 

1  For  names  of  subscribers  (about  twenty-five  hundred)  see  list  in  appendix 
of  Smith's  History  of  Dartmouth  College.  (Houghton  Mifflin  &  Company,  1878.) 


276  MY  GENERATION 

Wheelock's  Indian  School  the  substantial  walls  of  Dart- 
mouth College,  fitly  bearing  the  name  of  the  statesman 
as  well  known  in  his  time  for  his  friendship  for  the  colonies 
as  for  his  missionary  zeal.  And  if  anything  further  were 
needed  to  complete  the  "romance  of  Dartmouth,"  it  may 
be  found  in  the  reflection  that  none  of  these  conditions 
attending  its  origin  could  have  happened  except  in  the 
decade  in  which  they  occurred.  Ten  years  from  the  date 
of  Occom's  visit  to  England  and  six  years  from  the  date  of 
the  Charter  of  the  College,  the  colonies  were  at  war  with 
the  Mother  Country.  Dartmouth  was  the  ninth  and  last 
of  the  colonial  colleges.  The  College  might  have  come  into 
existence  under  other  auspices,  but  it  would  have  been 
another  college,  bearing  another  name,  located  elsewhere, 
possessed  of  other  traditions. 

The  relation  of  the  College  to  the  name  it  bears  is  not 
limited  to  the  gift  of  the  name.  The  name  was  justified 
by  the  personal  interest  of  Lord  Dartmouth,  the  second 
Earl,  in  the  purpose  of  Eleazar  Wheelock  as  set  forth  in 
the  Indian  School,  and  by  his  most  influential  service 
in  furthering  the  project.  His  influence  was  in  harmony 
with  his  political  attitude  to  the  Colonies  while  Secretary 
of  State  for  the  Department  of  America,  and  with  his 
religious  views  as  an  "Evangelical"  of  the  Church  of 
England.  The  unique  fact  about  the  relation  is  that  it 
survived  the  War  of  the  Revolution,  and  passed  over  into 
the  generations  following.  As  the  present  Lord  Dartmouth, 
the  sixth  in  the  succession,  remarked  on  leaving  the  Col- 
lege after  his  visit  in  1904,  "I  am  going  back  from  Dart- 
mouth to  Dartmouth,  between  which  there  has  never 
been  a  break  for  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  years."  I  do 
not  know  of  a  like  continuous  relation  between  an  Amer- 


H 

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■- 

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C 

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w 

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= 

~ 

~ 

- 

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X 

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u 

is 

THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  277 

ican  college  and  an  English  house.  This  reciprocal  relation 
has  been  frequently  acknowledged.  In  1805  Edward  Legge 
(the  House  of  Dartmouth  sprang  from  the  Legge  family), 
then  Dean  of  Windsor,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Oxford, 
received  from  the  College  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity ; 
and  in  1860  William  Walter  Legge,  fourth  Earl  of  Dart- 
mouth, received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws.  However, 
no  degree  was  conferred  in  person  till  the  visit,  to  which 
I  have  referred,  of  William  Heneage  Legge,  sixth  Earl  of 
Dartmouth.  This  degree,  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  was  given  in 
connection  with  the  formalities  attending  the  Laying  of 
the  Corner  Stone  of  the  New  Dartmouth  Hall  by  Lord 
Dartmouth.  More  recently  the  relationship  has  been  hap- 
pily brought  to  view  in  England  in  the  circumstance 
indicated  in  the  following  communication  from  Lord  Dart- 
mouth to  the  editor  of  the  "Alumni  Magazine": 

November  19,  1918 
Sir: 

I  enclose  a  programme  of  the  Installation  ceremony  of  Lord 
Robert  Cecil  as  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Birmingham. 
It  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  your  readers  to  know  that  I  was 
privileged  to  take  part  in  the  procession,  attired  in  the  robes 
presented  to  me  by  Ex-President  Nichols. 

The  installation  took  place  on  the  day  following  the  signing 
of  the  armistice,  and  the  appearance  of  a  Dartmouth  gown  in 
the  very  centre  of  England  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  very  appro- 
priate indication  of  an  alliance  that  made  the  signing  of  the 
armistice  possible. 

Yours  Dartmouth 

While,  however,  educational  institutions  may  have  their 
spiritual  origin  in  great  movements  of  thought  and  faith, 
they  do  not  come  into  actual  existence  except  through 
correspondingly  great  personal  agencies.  Eleazar  Wheelock 


278  MY  GENERATION 

was  emphatically  the  Founder  of  Dartmouth  College.  To 
him  the  College  owes  its  existence  because  he  was  an 
embodiment  of  the  creative  spiritual  influences  of  his 
generation,  but  also  and  none  the  less  because  of  the  cre- 
ative and  organizing  powers  of  mind  which  enabled  him 
to  conceive  plans  in  true  proportion,  and  which  caused 
him  to  brook  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  their  accomplish- 
ment. 

As  one  of  his  successors,  I  have  on  two  occasions  given 
my  impression  of  the  personality  of  Dr.  Wheelock,  and  of 
my  feeling  toward  him.  As  the  occasions  were  such  as  to 
enhance  whatever  value  may  have  attached  to  my  words, 
I  quote  them  in  their  connection.  The  first  occasion  was 
the  laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  present  Dartmouth 
Hall  by  the  present,  the  sixth  Earl  of  Dartmouth.  Among 
the  exercises  connected  with  this  ceremony  was  included 
a  visit  to  the  grave  of  Wheelock  in  the  College  Cemetery. 
The  following  brief  address  was  given  at  his  grave: 

We  are  indebted  to  Professor  Richardson,  the  chairman  of 
the  Committee  on  Arrangements,  for  the  introduction  of  the 
fine  touch  of  sentiment  which  brings  us  here,  at  the  grave  of 
Eleazar  Wheelock,  to  begin  our  march  to  the  site  of  Dartmouth 
Hall.  It  is  also  in  accordance  with  his  suggestion  that  a  brief 
word  is  spoken  here  by  myself  as  the  successor  of  Dr.  Wheelock. 

The  gift  of  the  eighteenth  century  to  the  colleges  of  America 
was  the  gift  of  the  religious  spirit.  For  other  endowments,  our 
debt  is  small.  The  ministry  of  wealth  to  education  had  not  then 
been  accepted,  and  of  organized  learning  there  was  little  to  give. 
The  learning  of  the  time  was  chiefly  pedantry  or  culture,  not 
distinctively  power. 

The  religious  spirit  was  the  great  educational  endowment, 
and  it  was  very  great,  because  it  was  creative.  It  took  possession 
of  fit  men  and  taught  them  to  lay  foundations  upon  which  men 
and  states  might  afterward  build  securely  and  broadly. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  279 

Eleazar  Wheelock  was  a  man  fitted  to  the  uses  of  this  creative 
and  energizing  spirit.  My  conception  of  him  is  that  of  a  man  of 
broad  understanding,  of  quick  and  steadfast  imagination,  and 
of  an  imperious  will,  which  gave  him  in  unusual  degree  the 
power  of  initiative;  but  I  think  of  him  more  distinctly  as  a  man 
able  to  receive  and  to  make  room  for  those  mighty  influences 
which  were  in  his  time  stirring  the  hearts  of  willing  and  capable 
men.  Eleazar  Wheelock  was  no  opportunist,  but  he  was  alive  in 
all  his  nature  to  the  most  serious  demands  and  opportunities 
of  his  age.  It  would  perhaps  be  fanciful  to  assume  that,  as  a  col- 
lege student,  the  first  fellow  on  the  Bishop  Berkeley  foundation 
at  Yale,  he  caught  the  full  significance  of  the  great  bishop's 
scheme  for  education  in  America.  Still  it  is  true  that  no  man  ever 
carried  that  scheme  so  near  to  its  realization  as  did  Eleazar 
Wheelock.  In  his  early  ministry  there  came  among  the  churches 
of  this  country  the  quickening  power  of  George  Whitefield. 
Many  opposed  Whitefield  and  his  doctrine.  Wheelock  welcomed 
him  and  accepted  his  message.  He  became  in  his  own  person  a 
recognized  part  of  the  "Great  Awakening."  The  visit  of  White- 
field  had  been  preceded  in  the  providence  of  God  by  another 
visit  of  a  very  different  kind,  which  at  once  suggested,  and 
finally  directed,  the  course  of  future  service.  While  he  was  still 
a  young  pastor  and  teacher  there  came  to  Wheelock's  study 
an  Indian,  twenty  years  of  age,  asking  for  advice  and  help. 
Wheelock  took  him  to  his  home  as  pupil,  almost  as  son,  and  after 
four  years  sent  him  out  equipped  for  work  among  the  churches. 
Samson  Occom  was  to  Wheelock  the  embodiment  of  an  idea, 
an  idea  which  became  a  purpose,  —  I  had  better  say,  a  passion; 
an  idea  for  which  he  was  ready  to  endure  toil  and  sacrifice, 
an  idea  for  which  he  was  quick  to  plead  with  the  churches  and 
legislatures  of  his  country,  an  idea  which  he  was  not  ashamed 
to  present  at  the  court  of  his  sovereign. 

It  was  twenty-six  years  from  the  visit  of  Samson  Occom  to 
the  signing  of  the  charter  of  Dartmouth  College.  At  almost 
threescore,  Eleazer  Wheelock  left  his  home  and  church  and 
people,  where  he  had  dwelt  for  thirty-five  years,  and  built  his 
altar  and  pitched  his  tent  in  this  wilderness.  He  had  but  ten 


280  MY  GENERATION 

years  in  which  to  accomplish  his  work.  It  was  an  old  man's  task. 
The  founding  of  this  College  is  a  witness  to  the  power  of  a 
courageous,  persistent,  indomitable  faith. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  this  man,  standing  beside  his  grave,  to 
deny  his  faults,  faults  which  inhered  in  his  temperament.  Great 
men  do  not  ask  us  to  forget  their  faults.  This  man  was  great 
enough  to  carry  them  to  the  end  and  make  his  goal. 

The  writer  of  his  epitaph  has  caught  the  spirit  of  his  life.  Be- 
ginning as  a  record  it  ends  as  a  challenge.  I  have  often  read  it 
to  invigorate  my  own  soul.  But  it  was  written  not  alone  for  his 
successors  in  the  office  which  he  created,  nor  yet  for  workers  in 
the  cause  for  which  he  gave  his  life,  but  as  the  writer  says,  even 
for  the  wayfaring  man  who  may  pass  his  grave.  I  rehearse  it 
therefore  in  your  presence. 

By  the  gospel  he  subdued  the  ferocity  of  the  savage; 

And  to  the  civilized  he  opened  new  paths  of  science. 

Traveler, 

Go,  if  you  can,  and  deserve 

The  sublime  reward  of  such  merit. 

The  second  occasion  was  the  Inauguration  of  Dr. 
Nichols  as  my  successor  in  the  presidency.  On  this  occa- 
sion I  received  permission  from  the  Trustees  of  the  College 
to  introduce  into  the  Inaugural  Exercises  a  special  recog- 
nition of  the  relation  of  succeeding  Presidents  to  Dr. 
Wheelock,  under  the  term  "The  Wheelock  Succession"  — 
a  term  designed  to  express  our  peculiar  personal  as  well 
as  official  connection  with  the  Founder  and  first  President 
of  the  College: 

President  Nichols,  I  am  permitted  by  the  courtesy  of  the 
Trustees  to  introduce  you  at  this  point  to  a  somewhat  peculiar, 
because  personal,  succession,  into  which  each  president  of  the 
College  enters  upon  his  induction  into  office.  The  charter  of 
Dartmouth,  unlike  that  of  any  college  of  its  time  so  far  as  I 
know,  was  written  in  personal  terms.  It  recognizes  throughout 
the  agency  of  one  man  in  the  events  leading  up  to  and  including 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  281 

the  founding  of  the  College.  And  in  acknowledgment  of  this 
unique  fact  it  conferred  upon  this  man  —  founder  and  first 
president  —  some  rather  unusual  powers,  among  which  was 
the  power  to  appoint  his  immediate  successor.  Of  course  this 
power  of  appointment  ceased  with  its  first  use,  but  the  idea  of  a 
succession  in  honor  of  the  founder,  suggested  by  the  charter, 
was  perpetuated;  so  that  it  has  come  about  that  the  presidents 
of  Dartmouth  are  known  at  least  to  themselves  as  also  the  suc- 
cessors of  Wheelock,  a  distinction  which  I  am  quite  sure  that 
you  will  appreciate  more  and  more.  For  Eleazar  Wheelock  was 
the  type  of  the  man,  the  impulse  of  whose  life  runs  on  in  men, 
creating  as  it  goes  a  natural  succession;  a  man  whose  power  of 
initiative  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  at  sixty  he  was  able  to 
found  this  College  in  the  wilderness;  a  scholar  by  the  best 
standards  of  his  time,  the  first  Berkeley  Fellow  at  Yale ;  broad 
and  courageous  in  his  mental  sympathies,  a  leader  in  the  pro- 
gressive movements  of  his  age ;  and  of  so  high  and  commanding 
a  devotion  of  purpose  that  it  brought  him  to  an  accomplished 
end.  .  .  . 

Dartmouth,  as  you  know,  has  been  singularly  fortunate  in 
the  return  into  its  own  life  of  the  fame  and  service  of  some  of 
her  greater  sons,  singularly  fortunate  also  in  the  abounding  and 
unflinching  loyalty  of  all  of  her  sons;  but  I  believe  that  the 
greatest  possession  of  the  College  has  been  and  is  still  the  spirit 
of  Eleazar  Wheelock  in  so  far  as  it  has  been  transmitted  through 
his  successors.  I  think  therefore  that  the  term  "The  Successors 
of  Wheelock"  is  worthy  of  public,  if  not  of  official  recognition. 
Unwittingly  Wheelock  himself  originated  the  expression  in  the 
very  thoughtful  provision  which  he  tried  to  make  for  those  of 
us  who  were  to  come  after  him.  "To  my  successors,"  he  says 
in  one  of  the  last  clauses  of  his  will,  not  to  the  Trustees  nor  to 
the  College,  but  "to  my  successors  in  the  presidency  I  give  and 
bequeath  my  chariot  which  was  given  me  by  my  honored  friend, 
John  Thornton,  Esquire,  of  London ;  I  also  give  to  my  successors 
my  house  clock  which  was  a  donation  made  me  by  my  much 
honored  patrons,  the  Honorable  Trust  in  London." 

It  is  no  matter  of  surprise,  as  we  recall  the  utter  indifference 


282  MY  GENERATION 

of  each  generation  to  those  things  of  its  daily  handling  which 
are  likely  to  become  historic,  that  these  perquisites  of  the  suc- 
cession have  long  since  disappeared.  But  happily  the  intention 
of  Wheelock  was  caught  and  held  in  permanent  shape.  When 
John  Wentworth,  governor  of  the  Province  of  New  Hampshire, 
returned  from  the  first  commencement,  he  sent  back,  possibly 
as  a  reminder  of  a  deficiency  on  that  occasion,  a  silver  punch- 
bowl bearing  this  inscription  — 

"His  Excellency  John  Wentworth,  Esquire,  Governor  of  the 
Province  of  New  Hampshire,  and  those  friends  who  accom- 
panied him  to  Dartmouth  the  first  Commencement  in  1771,  in 
testimony  of  their  gratitude  and  good  wishes,  present  this  to 
the  Reverend  Eleazar  Wheelock,  D.D.,  and  to  his  successors  in 
that  office." 

This  bowl,  which,  as  I  now  produce  it,  seems  so  inadequate 
to  the  draughts  of  that  time,  for  this  very  reason  serves  us  the 
better  as  a  kind  of  loving-cup. 

In  the  spirit  of  the  original  gift,  but  after  the  fashion  of  the 
later  use,  I  now  transfer  it  to  you  with  the  good  will  of  the  long 
succession,  and  in  the  personal  hope  that  it  may  be  many,  many 
years  before  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to  transfer  it  to 
your  successor. 

President  Nichols  responded  as  follows: 

Dr.  Tucker,  through  the  years  which  may  be  given  me  to 
serve  this  college  worthily,  I  shall  guard  and  cherish  this  symbol 
of  the  Wheelock  Succession  for  the  mighty  hands  through 
which  it  has  passed,  hands  which  have  held  high  the  sacred 
torch  of  knowledge  to  light  the  homes,  the  workshops,  the 
streets  of  the  world,  that  none  should  grope  in  darkness,  nor 
lose  his  way,  nor  run  into  any  kind  of  danger  because  of  mental 
or  moral  ignorance.  I  shall  cherish  this  symbol  of  the  Wheelock 
Succession  the  more,  sir,  because  it  has  come  into  my  hands 
from  you,  whom  I  have  known  and  loved  as  my  chieftain. 

The  introduction  of  the  ceremony  of  the  "W'heeloek 
Succession"  into  the  exercises  attending  the  Inauguration 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  283 

of  the  Presidents  of  Dartmouth  was  designed  to  give 
reality  and  spiritual  significance  to  the  romantic  founding 
of  the  College,  which  because  of  this  character  was  in 
danger  of  being  left  behind  to  abide  by  itself  as  a  spiritual 
romance,  detached  more  and  more  from  the  formal  and 
institutional  life  of  the  College.  By  a  singular  fate,  the  re- 
founding  of  the  College  had  seemed  to  intervene  to  give 
a  new  as  well  as  more  substantial  basis.  There  was  a  sense 
in  which  the  founding  and  refounding  were  really  con- 
tradictory. The  occasion  for  the  refounding  of  the  College 
lay  in  the  miscarriage  of  one  of  the  provisions  of  the 
original  foundation.  According  to  this  provision,  the  duty 
devolved  upon  Wheelock  of  appointing  his  successor  — 
"to  nominate,  appoint,  constitute,  and  ordain  by  his  last 
will  such  suitable  and  meet  person  or  persons  as  he  shall 
choose  to  succeed  him  in  the  Presidency  of  said  Dart- 
mouth" —  the  person  so  appointed,  however,  to  continue 
in  office  "so  long  and  until  such  appointment  shall  be 
disapproved  by  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College."  Re- 
calling the  circumstances  of  the  time,  this  provision  ap- 
pears to  have  been  natural,  if  it  did  not  prove  to  be  wise. 
The  immediate  future  of  the  enterprise  seemed  to  lie  in 
the  mind  from  which  it  emanated.  Wheelock  was  at  the 
time  sixty  years  old  and  worn  with  hardships  and  trials. 
He  had  but  a  limited  time  in  which  to  give  direction  and 
consistency  to  his  purpose.  Who  could  have  a  better  right 
or  an  equal  fitness  for  making  choice  of  his  successor? 

But  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  this  provision  of  the  charter  of 
Dartmouth  College  granting  to  Eleazar  Wheelock  as  the  founder 
the  right  to  appoint  his  successor,  and  in  the  results  which  fol- 
lowed the  exercise  of  this  right,  we  have  the  origin  of  the  Dart- 
mouth College  Case.  Unwittingly  the  charter  created  the  con- 


284  MY  GENERATION 

dition  for  such  a  controversy.  Unwittingly  Dr.  Wheelock  filled 
out  the  condition  by  the  appointment  of  his  son,  John  Wheelock, 
then  Lieutenant  Colonel  in  the  Continental  Army,  serving  on 
the  staff  of  General  Gates  in  New  Jersey,  probably  the  best 
choice  he  could  have  made.  ...  If,  however,  we  eliminate  any 
one  or  all  of  the  personal  characteristics  which  may  have  been 
contributory  to  the  controversy,  it  is  quite  easy  to  see  that  there 
were  sufficient  elements  of  contention  in  the  situation  itself.  On 
the  one  hand  the  inheritance  from  the  administration  of  the 
elder  Wheelock  was  entirely  that  of  a  personal  and  paternal 
government.  The  younger  Wheelock  was  simply  asked  to 
take  his  father's  place.  There  were  no  other  traditions  attach- 
ing to  the  place  than  that  of  personal  government.  Nobody  at 
the  time  had  any  other  conception  of  the  administration  of 
the  college.  When  other  and  broader  ideas  came  in,  after  the 
lapse  of  two  or  three  decades,  especially  through  changes  in  the 
Board  of  Trustees,  then  occasions  arose  and  multiplied  for  dif- 
ferences, disagreements,  and  contentions.  The  changes  in  the 
Board  of  Trustees  during  the  first  fifty  years  of  the  college  from 
the  date  of  its  founding,  1769,  to  the  decision  in  the  Dartmouth 
College  Case,  1819,  were  very  marked.  This  Board,  consisting 
of  twelve  men,  was  made  up  at  the  first  in  about  equal  parts,  of 
the  political  associates  of  Governor  Wentworth  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, and  of  the  ministerial  friends  of  Dr.  Wheelock  from  Con- 
necticut. The  War  of  the  Revolution  falling  within  the  first 
decade  changed  almost  entirely  the  composition  of  the  Board. 
Two  only  of  the  charter  members  remained  through  the  ten 
years'  administration  of  the  first  president.  Governor  Wentworth 
withdrew  at  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  in  1775.  The  Connecticut 
members  gradually  withdrew,  owing  in  part  to  their  local  inter- 
ests in  their  own  colony.  The  college  thus  separated  from  its 
English  patrons,  and  from  many  of  its  supporters  in  the  other 
colonies,  became  for  the  time  isolated.  Dr.  Wheelock  was  obliged 
to  rely  more  and  more  upon  his  personal  friends,  among  whom 
may  be  mentioned  John  Phillips  of  Exeter.  Vacancies  in  the 
Board  as  they  occurred  were  filled  by  friends,  and  in  two  cases 
by  relatives.  The  Board  of  Trustees  in  existence  at  the  death  of 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  285 

the  elder  Wheelock  in  1779,  which  urged  the  succession  upon 
his  son,  was  in  reality,  though  apparently  without  design,  so 
organized  as  to  perpetuate  the  family  control  of  the  college. 
Within  twenty  years  the  names  upon  the  Board  as  then  con- 
stituted disappear,  with  two  exceptions,  and  thereafter  quite  a 
different  type  of  trustee  comes  into  prominence  —  Nathaniel 
Niles,  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Vermont,  elected  in  1793; 
Thomas  W.  Thompson,  Member  of  Congress,  in  succession,  in 
both  branches,  1801;  Timothy  Farrar,  Judge  of  the  Court  of 
Common  Pleas  of  New  Hampshire,  1804;  Elijah  Paine,  Esquire, 
of  Vermont,  1806;  Charles  Marsh,  Esquire,  U.S.  District  At- 
torney and  Member  of  Congress,  1809  —  an  acquisition  of  legal 
ability  which  gave  the  Board  a  distinctly  legal  character,  and 
which  peculiarly  fitted  it,  as  occasions  might  arise,  for  contro- 
versial action.1 

The  occasion  for  open  conflict  between  the  President 
and  the  majority  of  the  Trustees  did  not  arise  until  after 
some  years  of  friction  in  the  college  community  and 
throughout  the  college  constituency,  and  of  suppressed 
conflict  within  the  Board.  The  President  had  now  been 
in  office  thirty -five  years,  the  last  fifteen  years  of  which  had 
been  a  period  of  uninterrupted  contention.  It  is  necessary 
to  keep  this  fact  in  mind  in  order  to  understand  the  sudden 
and  vigorous  outbreak  of  hostilities.  The  state  of  feeling 
which  had  been  engendered,  was  intensified  by  the  pub- 
licity to  which  each  side  resorted  in  giving  out  charges 
and  counter-charges.  The  charges  on  either  side  were  as 
follows.  In  his  memorial  to  the  Legislature  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, its  President  Wheelock  charged  that  the  majority  of 
the  Trustees  had  "forsaken  its  original  principles  [of  the 
charter]  and  left  the  path  of  their  predecessors";  that  by 

1  Quotation  from  my  address  on  the  "Origin  of  the  Dartmouth  College  Case," 
given  before  the  New  Hampshire  Bar  Association  on  occasion  of  its  celebration 
of  the  Centennial  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  Manchester,  February  4,  1901. 


286  MY  GENERATION 

improper  "means  and  practices  they  [had]  increased  their 
number  to  a  majority  controlling  the  measures  of  the 
Board";  that  they  had  "applied  property  to  purposes 
wholly  alien  from  the  intention  of  the  donors  ";  that  they 
had  "transformed  the  moral  and  religious  order  of  the 
institution  by  depriving  many  of  their  innocent  enjoyment 
of  rights  and  privileges  for  which  they  had  confided  in 
their  faith  ";  and  that  they  had  "  broken  down  the  bar- 
riers and  violated  the  charter  by  prostrating  the  rights 
with  which  it  expressly  invests  the  presidential  office." 

In  the  counter-charges  the  Trustees  claimed  that  Pres- 
ident Wheelock  had  sanctioned  in  printed  documents 
known  as  the  "Sketches"  and  the  "Memorial,"  "a  gross 
and  unprovoked  libel  upon  the  institution";  that  he  had 
set  up  "  claims  which  in  their  operation  would  deprive  the 
corporation  of  all  its  powers";  that  he  had  "been  guilty 
of  manifest  fraud  in  the  application  of  the  funds  of  Moor's 
School"  in  foisting  an  assumed  Indian  upon  the  Scotch 
fund;  and  that  he  had  "in  various  ways  given  rise  and 
circulation  to  a  report  that  the  real  cause  of  the  dissatis- 
faction of  the  Trustees  with  him  was  a  diversity  of  re- 
ligious opinions  between  him  and  them,  when  in  truth 
and  in  fact  no  such  diversity  was  known  or  is  now  known 
to  exist,  as  he  has  publicly  acknowledged  before  the  com- 
mittee of  the  Legislature  appointed  to  investigate  the 
affairs  of  the  College." 

In  reviewing  these  charges  and  counter-charges  one  can 
but  feel  how  insufficient  they  were  in  their  generalities  to 
bear  the  weight  of  the  subsequent  contention.  So  it  ap- 
peared at  the  time  to  the  clear  and  sagacious  mind  of 
Jeremiah  Mason.  The  particular  act  of  President  Wheelock 
which  seems  to  have  carried  the  contention  to  the  break- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  287 

ing  point,  was  the  direct  appeal  in  his  "Memorial"  to  the 
Legislature  of  New  Hampshire,  that  it  would  make  such 
"organic  improvements  and  model  reforms  in  its  system 
and  movements  [of  the  College]  as  under  Divine  Provi- 
dence will  guard  against  the  disorders  and  their  appre- 
hended consequences."  To  the  object,  avowed  or  implied, 
in  this  appeal,  the  Trustees  made  answer  by  deposing  the 
President,  according  to  the  authority  granted  them  by 
the  charter  and  by  electing  the  Reverend  Francis  Brown 
in  his  place.  Of  course  this  action  closed  the  contention 
between  President  Wheelock  and  the  Trustees;  but  it 
carried  the  controversy  into  politics  and  opened  the  way 
into  that  larger  contention  which  was  to  become  in  due 
time  the  Dartmouth  College  Case.  The  political  party 
then  in  opposition  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  the 
situation  and  at  the  next  session  of  the  Legislature,  June, 
1816,  secured  the  passage  of  an  act  "to  amend  the  charter 
and  enlarge  and  improve  the  corporation  of  Dartmouth 
College,"  increasing  the  number  of  Trustees  to  twenty- 
one,  and  changing  the  name  of  the  College  to  Dartmouth 
University.  A  Board  of  Overseers  was  also  added  and  the 
necessary  legislation,  both  restrictive  and  expansive,  was 
introduced  to  convert  the  College  altogether  into  a  State 
University.  Although  the  Trustees  were  hardly  prepared 
for  such  drastic  and  subversive  action  to  be  enforced  by 
the  power  of  the  State,  they  did  not  shrink  from  the  un- 
equal contest.  Their  action  took  the  form  of  a  suit  before 
the  Superior  Court  of  New  Hampshire  to  recover  the 
records  and  seal  of  the  College,  which  had  passed  into 
possession  of  the  University  through  the  defection  of 
Judge  Woodward,  the  Secretary  and  Treasurer  of  the 
Trustees.  This  suit  raised  at  once  the  question  of  the  con- 


288  MY  GENERATION 

stitutionality  of  the  act  of  the  Legislature  establishing 
the  University.  The  case  was  argued  with  great  ability 
by  Attorney-General  Sullivan  and  Ichabod  Bartlett  in 
behalf  of  the  State,  and  by  Jeremiah  Mason  and  Jeremiah 
Smith  in  behalf  of  the  College,  Mr.  Webster,  who  as 
junior  counsel  had  kept  somewhat  in  retirement  during 
the  procedure,  making  a  brief  closing  argument.  The  de- 
cision of  the  court  was  unanimously  in  favor  of  the  State, 
upholding  the  constitutionality  of  the  legislative  act 
establishing  the  University. 

The  adverse  decision  of  the  court  revealed  the  serious- 
ness of  the  contest  upon  which  the  College  had  entered 
for  the  restoration  of  its  chartered  rights.  What  added  not 
a  little  to  the  disheartening  effect  upon  the  friends  of  the 
College  was  the  attitude  at  this  time  of  many  officers  and 
graduates  of  other  colleges,  who,  now  beginning  to  realize 
the  common  danger,  were  fearful  of  graver  results  if  the 
case  should  be  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States.  They  felt  that  they  might  not  be  affected 
by  any  like  decision  in  the  courts  of  their  own  States,  and 
preferred  to  rest  in  this  uncertainty  rather  than  to  join  in 
an  attempt  to  gain  the  assurance  of  a  general  and  perma- 
nent security.  The  Trustees  and  their  counsel,  though  not 
altogether  surprised  at  the  decision,  and  still  undaunted, 
were  somewhat  doubtful  as  to  the  nature  of  future  pro- 
ceedings, especially  in  regard  to  the  scope  of  the  appeal. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Mr.  Webster  really  entered 
the  case,  bringing  to  bear  upon  it  all  his  legal  resources 
and  throwing  into  it  the  whole  weight  of  his  personality. 
From  this  time  on  it  was  his  case.  He  chose  the  strategic 
point  for  the  appeal  to  Washington.  He  reorganized  the 
case  to  meet  the  enlarged  conditions  of  its  new  environ- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  289 

ment.  Associating  Judge  Hopkinson,  of  Philadelphia, 
with  him,  he  prepared  the  case  with  scrupulous  care. 
Nothing  was  wanting  to  the  completeness  of  the  argu- 
ment, nothing  to  the  force  of  its  application,  not  even  the 
sincere  touch  of  personal  emotion  which  carried  it  to  the 
hearts  of  the  judges.  When  the  decision  of  the  Supreme 
Court  was  rendered,  reversing  that  of  the  State  court, 
and  reestablishing  the  College  in  its  chartered  rights, 
Mr.  Webster  stood  forth  as  the  victorious  champion  of 
what  had  been  a  mightily  imperiled  cause.  Before  the 
country  had  grasped  the  scope  of  his  argument,  it  was 
caught  by  the  splendor  of  his  courage.  Something  of  this 
high  distinction  of  courage  fell  upon  the  College.  The 
Dartmouth  College  Case  under  Mr.  Webster's  manage- 
ment gave  to  the  College  a  courageous  and  chivalrous  as- 
pect, corresponding  to  that  adventurous  aspect  which  it  at 
first  assumed  from  the  religious  heroism  of  Dr.  Wheelock. 
In  the  year  1901  the  College  observed  the  centennial  of 
Mr.  Webster's  graduation.1  It  was  an  unusual  academic 
event,  but  the  relations  of  Mr.  Webster  to  the  College  both 

1  Through  a  striking  coincidence,  the  founding  and  the  refounding  of  the  Col- 
lege, that  is,  the  conferring  of  the  Charter  and  the  decision  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  fall  upon  dates  just  fifty  years  apart,  so  that  any  academic  commemo- 
ration of  either  event  will  naturally  include  the  other.  Thus,  before  the  War,  the 
year  1919  had  been  kept  in  mind  as  the  date  for  the  celebration  of  the  one 
hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  signing  of  the  charter  and  the  one 
hundredth  anniversary  of  the  decision  of  the  court.  But  two  occasions  arose 
meanwhile  (one  entirely  unexpected)  which  brought  these  two  events  in  turn 
vividly  before  the  College.  The  first  was  the  celebration  of  the  centennial  of  Mr. 
Webster's  graduation  (1901);  the  second  three  years  later  marking  the  laying  of 
the  corner  stone  of  the  new  Dartmouth  Hall  and  the  visit  of  the  Earl  of  Dart- 
mouth to  the  College.  Memorial  volumes  were  carefully  prepared,  edited  by 
Ernest  Martin  Hopkins,  then  Secretary  to  the  President,  recording  the  various 
speeches  and  addresses,  and  narrating  the  incidents  of  interest  attending  the 
celebrations. 

The  Webster  Centennial  contains  the  very  comprehensive  but  most  discrimi- 
nating oration  by  Governor  (then  Congressman)  Samuel  W.  McCall  on  "Web- 
ster's Career";  papers  of  Professors  John  K.  Lord  and  Charles  F.  Richardson; 


290  MY  GENERATION 

personal  and  professional  were  so  unusual  as  to  make  the 
event  appropriate  and  significant.  In  my  introductory 
words  in  explanation  of  the  occasion,  I  sought  to  interpret 
the  feeling  of  the  College  to  Mr.  Webster: 

The  observance  of  the  Centennial  of  Mr.  Webster's  gradu- 
ation from  College  is  an  academic  event  of  its  own  kind.  I  am 
not  aware  of  an  instance  in  which  a  college  has  taken  note  in  a 
formal  way  of  the  graduation  of  any  of  its  alumni.  The  motive 
which  has  led  us  to  observe  this  event  is  so  natural  and  evident, 
that  our  action  invites,  I  think,  neither  criticism  nor  imitation. 
We  have  not  sought  to  introduce  a  custom.  No  college  or  uni- 
versity may  see  fit  to  celebrate  a  like  event  in  its  history.  We 
may  have  no  occasion  to  repeat  these  observances  under  other 
conditions. 

The  relation  of  Mr.  Webster  to  his  College,  his  living  and  his 
posthumous  relation,  is  unique.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  name  of  any 
educational  institution  in  the  land  is  so  inseparably  blended 
with  the  name  of  a  graduate,  or  even  of  a  founder,  as  is  the 
name  of  Dartmouth  with  that  of  Daniel  Webster.  The  story  of 
the  founding  of  this  College  by  Eleazar  Wheelock  is  a  romance, 
the  great  educational  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The 
story  of  its  "refounding"  by  Daniel  Webster  is  written  in  law, 
the  law  of  the  land  since  1820.  Had  Mr.  Webster  died  imme- 
diately after  the  Dartmouth  College  decision  he  would  have  left 
the  College  imbedded  in  the  national  life.  The  after  years  of  his 
personal  fame  were  of  almost  equal  service  to  the  College.  His 

and  speeches  by  Governor  Jordan,  Edwin  Webster  Sanborn,  Esq.,  Judge  David 
Cross,  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Senator  Hoar  of  Massachusetts,  and  Chief 
Justice  Fuller. 

The  Laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of  the  New  Dartmouth  Hall  contains  the  illu- 
minating Historical  Address  of  Professor  Francis  Brown  on  "The  Origins  of  Dart- 
mouth College";  the  various  speeches  of  the  Earl  of  Dartmouth;  the  "Corner 
Stone  Ode"  of  Wilder  D.  Quint;  and  the  responses  at  the  Banquet  by  the  Earl 
of  Dartmouth;  Charles  T.  Gallagher,  Esq.,  on  the  "Dartmouth  and  Washington 
Arms";  Dr.  Charles  A.  Eastman  on  "The  Native  American  for  whom  Dart- 
mouth College  was  founded";  Governor  Bachelder  of  New  Hampshire;  President 
Eliot  of  Harvard;  President  Tyler  of  William  and  Mary;  and  the  Honorable 
Elihu  Root  on  "Samuel  Kirkland,  Founder  of  Hamilton  College:  Eleazar 
Wheelock's  Pupil  and  Fellow  Worker  in  Indian  Education." 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  291 

reputation,  his  influence,  his  memory  became  a  part  of  our  in- 
stitutional assets.  We  cannot  tell  to-day  whether  we  owe  more 
to  Mr.  Webster  for  what  he  did  or  for  what  he  was. 

And  yet  in  this  relation  of  Mr.  Webster  to  the  College,  unique 
as  it  is,  there  is  nothing  unnatural  or  exaggerated.  He  belongs  to 
us  because  he  was  one  of  us.  There  was  nothing  to  set  him  apart 
or  separate  him,  except  size.  He  was  "to  the  manner  born."  A 
New  Hampshire  boy,  he  never  thought  of  entering  any  other 
college  than  Dartmouth.  And  once  here  he  found  all  that  he 
needed  at  that  stage  of  his  development.  The  Dartmouth  of 
Mr.  Webster's  time  was  quite  abreast  of  the  still  older  colleges 
with  which  it  is  associated.  During  the  decade  which  included 
the  greater  part  of  his  collegiate  course,  Dartmouth  graduated 
three  hundred  and  sixty-three  men,  Harvard  three  hundred  and 
ninety-four,  Yale  two  hundred  and  ninety-five,  and  Princeton 
two  hundred  and  forty.  Mr.  Webster  referred  in  his  argument 
to  Dartmouth  as  a  "small  college."  It  was  a  small  college,  but 
not  small  as  related  to  its  neighbors,  nor  insufficient  as  related 
to  its  work.  It  gave  Mr.  Webster  what  he  was  capable  of  re- 
ceiving in  the  way  of  instruction,  stimulus  and  opportunity. 
And  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  repay  his  debt  to  the  College 
he  simply  did  his  duty.  He  did  no  more  than  he  ought  to  have 
done,  no  more  than  any  graduate  ought  to  do  for  his  college 
with  a  like  opportunity  before  him  and  with  equal  resources  at 
his  command.  It  was  natural,  too,  that  he  should  continue  to 
love  his  college  to  the  end,  and  rejoice  that  he  was  a  part  of  it, 
as  natural  as  was  his  love  of  kindred  and  of  nature.  I  dwell  upon 
the  simplicity  and  constancy  of  Mr.  Webster's  feeling  toward 
the  College,  because  these  qualities  explain  so  largely  our  feeling 
toward  him.  His  loyalty  was  commensurate  with  his  power  of 
service,  his  affection  was  as  deep  as  his  nature.  .  .  . 

It  may  be  pardonable  to  add  to  this  word  of  explanation  the 
reminder  of  the  fact  that  as  we  celebrate  this  past  event,  we  find 
ourselves  in  the  presence  of  a  living  personality.  No  man  of  his 
time  has  borne  the  gradual  transfer  from  memory  to  tradition 
with  so  little  loss.  No  name  out  of  his  time  is  so  familiar  to-day 
as  his  name.  Mr.  Webster  was  never  loved  by  the  people  at  large 


292  MY  GENERATION 

as  some  men  have  been  loved.  Popular  affection  as  it  went  out 
toward  him  grew  hesitant  in  the  approach  and  became  awed  in 
his  presence.  It  did  not  quite  dare  that  passionate  fondness 
which  some  men  allow  in  their  success;  it  did  not  dare  that  com- 
passionate tenderness  which  some  men  would  welcome,  which 
he  might  have  welcomed,  in  decline  and  defeat.  But  in  one 
respect  the  personal  influence  of  Mr.  Webster  surpassed  and 
continues  to  surpass  that  of  all  other  men,  namely,  in  his  in- 
fluence over  the  ambitions  of  young  men.  During  his  life-time 
Mr.  Beecher  had  many  imitators.  Mr.  Webster's  power  was 
deeper,  more  searching,  more  creative.  It  touched  the  center 
and  core  of  personal  ambition,  stirring  young  men  to  make  the 
most  of  themselves  and  to  act  with  most  effect  upon  others. 
Mr.  WTebster  has  been  and  still  is  a  potent  influence  in  sending 
men  to  college,  into  the  law,  and  into  politics. 

Measured  in  broader  terms  his  influence  is  vital  to-day  in  the 
thought  and  feelings  of  men  in  respect  to  the  country.  We  have 
learned,  we  have  begun  to  learn,  to  think  about  the  country  in 
his  terms,  and  to  feel  about  it  as  he  felt.  His  conceptions  were  so 
great  that  they  could  find  room  only  in  his  own  mind.  They 
belong  to  the  United  States  of  to-day,  not  to  the  nation  of  his 
time.  Thus  far  Mr.  Webster  is  the  only  man  who  has  compre- 
hended the  American  people.  Until  a  greater  American  than  he 
shall  arise,  he  will  live  in  the  still  unfulfilled  destiny  of  the 
Republic. 

In  following  the  extraordinary  course  of  events  which 
carried  the  case  of  the  College  to  Washington  we  may  not 
allow  ourselves  to  lose  sight  of  the  events  which  were  at 
the  same  time  taking  place  at  the  College  itself;  nor  may 
we  allow  our  absorbing  admiration  for  the  courageous 
bearing  of  Mr.  Webster,  amounting  as  it  did  to  a  sane 
audacity,  to  overshadow  an  exhibition  of  equal  courage 
of  a  different  type  in  the  person  of  the  youthful  President 
of  the  College.  When  the  trustees  deposed  President 
W7heelock,  they  turned  to  Francis  Brown,  for  three  years 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  293 

after  his  graduation  a  tutor,  and  then  pastor  of  the  church 
in  Yarmouth,  Maine,  as  the  most  competent  man  for  the 
succcession.  He  was  but  thirty-one  years  of  age,  and  but 
ten  years  out  of  college;  but  they  believed  that  they  knew 
the  man  and  dared  to  trust  him  with  what  was  not  only 
a  great  but  at  the  time  a  very  unusual  responsibility.  They 
could  not  have  foreseen,  and  certainly  he  could  not  have 
foreseen  all  the  consequences  which  were  to  follow  the 
deposition  of  the  President,  but  they  knew  that  in  taking 
this  step  they  incurred  grave  risks.  It  seemed,  neverthe- 
less, necessary  and  wise  to  incur  them;  but  the  wisdom  of 
their  action  could  be  justified  only  by  the  wisdom  of  their 
choice  of  a  successor  to  the  deposed  President.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  with  any  other  man  than  President  Brown  in 
the  position  the  cause  of  the  College  would  have  failed. 
The  situation  was  full  of  pitfalls.  Any  misstep  would  have 
been  prejudicial  to  the  case  and  might  have  made  the 
legal  contention  of  the  College  untenable.  President  Brown, 
in  company  with  his  associates,  Professors  Adams  and 
Shurtleff,  held  the  local  position  not  only  firmly,  but 
without  prejudice  to  the  efforts  of  the  counsel  for  the 
Trustees.  The  official  correspondence  of  the  President 
with  the  Governor  of  the  State  was  conducted  with  rare 
diplomacy,  and  his  correspondence  with  the  President  of 
the  University,  a  still  more  delicate  business,  with  equal 
skill.  The  relations  between  College  and  University  were 
kept  within  the  bounds  of  a  reasonable  courtesy.  And 
meanwhile  the  college  exercises  went  on  with  regularity. 
The  students  were  held  to  their  duties  with  a  certain 
enthusiastic  devotion.  There  was  but  slight  decline  in 
numbers  during  these  dark  and  uncertain  days.  The 
presidency  of  Dr.  Brown  lasted  but  five  years,  from  1815 


294  MY  GENERATION 

to  1820.  The  number  graduating  within  those  years  was 
one  hundred  and  forty-three  —  but  fifty  less  than  in  the 
previous  five  years,  and  but  seventeen  less  than  in  the  five 
following.  Certainly  there  was  no  decline  in  quality.  Rufus 
Choate  graduated  in  1819  (the  year  of  the  decision  of  the 
Case) ,  and  George  P.  Marsh  in  the  year  after.  Meanwhile, 
the  loyalty  of  the  President  could  not  be  shaken,  nor  his 
courage.  At  the  time  of  greatest  confusion  he  was  offered 
the  presidency  of  Hamilton  College  with  twice  his  salary. 
It  was  no  temptation  to  him.  The  Legislature  passed  an 
act  inflicting  penalties  upon  him  and  his  associates  if  they 
continued  to  fulfill  their  duties  as  college  officers.  They 
continued  without  a  break  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties. 
While  the  College  was  before  the  courts,  the  position  at 
Hanover  was  held  without  flinching.  Any  other  course 
would  have  been  fatal  to  the  whole  cause.  As  Trustee 
Marsh,  then  a  member  of  Congress,  wrote  the  President 
from  Washington  —  "With  your  abandonment  would  ex- 
pire the  remaining  hopes  of  the  friends  of  Dartmouth." 
That  was  an  impossible  alternative  to  Francis  Brown. 
The  struggle  cost  him  his  life,  but  he  died  at  his  post,  sur- 
viving only  a  year  the  victory  of  Mr.  Webster  at  Wash- 
ington. He  belongs  by  every  right  within  the  heroic  period 
of  the  history  of  the  College.  Nothing  could  be  more  fitting 
than  the  tablet  to  his  memory  (see  page  295),  placed 
within  the  Hall  which  bears  the  inscription  to  Wheelock 
and  Webster. 

I  have  made  much  account  of  the  traditions  of  Dart- 
mouth because  they  retain  their  influence.  They  have 
entered  into  the  institutional  life  of  the  College.  They 
form  a  part  of  the  Dartmouth  discipline.  Unconsciously, 
doubtless,  to  the  average  undergraduate,  but  none  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  295 


FRANCIS  BROWN,  S.T.D. 

PRESIDENT  OF  DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE 

1815-1820. 

A  MINISTER  OF  THE  GOSPEL 

IN  NORTH  YARMOUTH  MAINE 

CALLED  TO  THE  PRESIDENCY  OF 

THE  COLLEGE  IN  THE  CRISIS 

OF  ITS  AFFAIRS  WHEN  THE 

STATE  LEGISLATURE  THREATENED  TO 

CHANGE  THE  CHARTER  OF  THE  COLLEGE 

AGAINST  THE  WILL  OF  THE  TRUSTEES 

HE  ACCEPTED  THE  CALL  AS 

THE  WAY  TO  DUTY. 

FOR  FIVE  YEARS  UNCHECKED  BY  OBLOQUY 

UNDAUNTED  BY  DIREST  POVERTY 

UNENTICED  BY  OFFERS  OF 

PERSONAL  ADVANCEMENT 

UNDISMAYED  BY  THE 

ADVERSE  DECISION  OF  THE  STATE  COURTS 

HE  CONDUCTED  THE  AFFAIRS 

OF  THE  COLLEGE 

UNTIL  A  DECISION  OF  THE 

SUPREME  COURT  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES 

ESTABLISHED  THE  VALIDITY  OF 

THE  EARLY  CHARTER. 

WORN  OUT  BY  THE  STRUGGLE 

HE  DIED  JULY  27th  1820 
IN  HIS  THIRTY  SEVENTH  YEAR. 

HIS  UNTIRING  LABORS 

HIS  ADMINISTRATIVE  ABILITY 

AND  HIS  HIGH  PERSONAL  CHARACTER 

GAINED  FRIENDS  FOR  THE  COLLEGE 

AND  HELD  THE  STUDENT  BODY 

FIRM  IN  ITS  ALLEGIANCE  TO 

THE  INSTITUTION  WHICH 

HE  HAD  THOUGHT  WORTHY  THE 

SACRIFICE  OF  HIS  LIFE. 

IN  RECOGNITION  OF  HIS  MERITS 

THIS  TABLET  IS  ERECTED  ON  THE 

CENTENARY  OF  HIS  ACCESSION 

BY  THE 

ASSOCIATION  OF  ALUMNI  OF 

DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE. 


296  MY  GENERATION 

less  truly,  they  are  a  vital  element  in  the  intellectual  and 
moral  atmosphere  which  surrounds  him.  Their  ultimate 
effect,  however,  is  manifest  in  the  graduates  of  the  College. 
At  certain  periods  they  have  been  influential  in  determin- 
ing the  choice  of  a  profession.  At  all  times  they  assert 
themselves  in  the  determination  of  the  qualities  which  are 
accounted  of  most  value  in  practical  life.  I  have  been 
greatly  interested  in  observing  how  surely  the  traditions 
of  the  College,  if  by  any  chance  they  have  been  submerged 
under  the  passing  enthusiasm  of  an  undergraduate  gener- 
ation, reappear  in  the  graduate  of  after  years.  The  great 
traditions  are  so  persistent  that  they  seem  at  times  mo- 
notonous, but  they  never  cease  to  be  vital. 

m 

Reconstruction  and  Expansion 

It  is  an  abrupt  transition  from  the  epoch  when  Dart- 
mouth was  making  its  traditions  to  the  time  when,  in 
common  with  the  historic  colleges,  it  entered  upon  what 
I  have  termed  the  modernizing  process  —  the  era  of  re- 
construction and  expansion.  But  as  this  review  is  auto- 
biographical, not  historical,  except  when  historical  refer- 
ence is  necessary,  I  pass  directly  into  the  period  with  which 
I  was  personally  and  professionally  concerned.  I  may  call 
attention,  however,  to  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  the 
intervening  period  for  its  bearing  on  later  results.  This 
period  was  remarkable  for  its  productivity  in  graduates 
of  public  influence  and  position.  Each  college  contributed 
its  quota,  and  usually  added  something  to  indicate  its 
type.  Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  whose  position  as  United 
States  Commissioner  of  Education  gave  him  unusual 
opportunity  for  estimating  the  characteristics  of  public 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD 


297 


men,  told  me  that  in  his  judgment  the  Dartmouth  char- 
acteristic was  "directive  power."  This  opinion  led  me  to 
look  into  the  record  of  the  College  in  Congress,  where  it 
had  always  been  represented  in  one  or  both  Houses  from 
the  organization  of  the  Federal  Government.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  record  justified  Dr.  Harris's  opinion.  And 
as  I  visited  from  time  to  time  the  alumni  associations  in 
various  parts  of  the  country,  I  became  confirmed  in  the 
discrimination  of  this  judgment,  as  I  examined  into  the 
qualities  of  the  early  leaders  in  the  educational,  political, 
and  in  some  cases  economic  interests  of  the  States. 

Possibly  there  may  have  been  some  connection  between 
this  productivity  of  the  nineteenth-century  college  in 
graduates  of  the  general  type  referred  to,  and  the  relative 
place  then  held  by  the  faculty  in  a  college.  The  graduate 
may  have  been  the  more  direct  product  of  the  teaching 
force.  Certainly  the  teaching  force  as  then  individualized 
was  the  most  distinguishing  feature  of  a  college,  far  more 
distinguishing  than  the  physical  properties  of  the  college, 
or  even  its  curriculum,  or  its  administration.  Several  of 
the  more  influential  college  presidents  were  such  by  virtue 
of  their  teaching  ability  quite  as  much  as  by  their  ability 
as  administrators  —  Woolsey  of  Yale,  Hopkins  of  Wil- 
liams, Wayland  of  Brown,  Felton  of  Harvard. 

But  in  the  closing  decades  of  the  century  it  became 
evident  that  college  teaching,  if  it  was  to  maintain  its 
effectiveness,  must  be  supported  and  supplemented  by 
agencies  quite  out  of  reach  of  the  individual  instructor; 
and  also  that  it  must  be  at  once  more  sharply  differentiated 
and  more  highly  organized.  This  was  the  meaning  of  the 
modernizing  process  which  awaited  the  colleges,  in  which 
the  emphasis  was  to  fall  upon  college  administration.  It  is 


298  MY  GENERATION 

not  too  much  to  say  that  the  necessity  for  the  modernizing 
of  the  colleges  virtually  created  the  science  of  college  ad- 
ministration, which  in  its  inner  working  is  the  science  of 
coordination  and  adjustment,  and  in  its  outer  relations  the 
scientific  application  of  economic  principles  to  the  material 
necessities  of  the  colleges.  The  modern  college  is  thus,  by 
distinction  from  the  type  out  of  which  it  emerged,  in  much 
larger  degree  the  product  of  the  college  administrator. 

It  may  be  difficult  to  distinguish  at  all  points  between 
the  results  of  the  normal  institutional  development  of  the 
colleges,  and  the  results  of  the  modernizing  process.  The 
normal  development  involved  growth  and  advances,  some- 
times very  marked  —  advances  in  instruction,  increase  in 
endowments,  growth  in  numbers  both  of  faculty  and 
students.  The  institutional  development  of  Dartmouth 
which  began  under  President  Lord,  when  its  physical 
shape  was  determined  and  its  educational  character  estab- 
lished, steadily  continued  throughout  his  thirty-five  years 
of  administration  (1828-1863),  and  proceeded  normally 
under  the  administrations  of  his  successors,  Presidents 
Smith  and  Bartlett.  The  College  not  only  took  on  a  strong 
impress  from  the  personality  of  these  administrations,  but 
it  carried  over  into  its  future,  permanent  deposits  of 
material  resources  and  permanent  gains  in  educational 
values.  Like  results  obtained  in  all  the  New  England 
colleges.  Administrations  varied  in  their  relative  influence, 
and  yet  any  one  familiar  with  the  college  history  of  New 
England  in  the  nineteenth  century  can  trace  the  institu- 
tional development  of  the  various  colleges  from  decade  to 
decade.  But  the  modernizing  of  these  colleges,  when  it 
came,  was  a  different  matter  from  the  normal  institutional 
development  which  had  gone  before. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  299 

The  modernizing  process  made  at  least  these  three  de- 
mands upon  the  colleges  —  first,  adequate  provision  for 
the  new  subject-matter  of  the  higher  education,  a  demand 
which  involved  not  only  the  reconstruction  of  the  curric- 
ulum but  also,  in  most  cases,  of  the  college  plant;  second, 
the  reorganization  of  faculties  based  on  departments  rather 
than  on  individual  chairs  of  instruction,  a  change  made 
necessary,  together  with  various  modifications  of  college 
instruction,  through  the  incoming  of  the  Graduate  School, 
and  the  reliance  of  the  colleges  upon  these  schools  for  in- 
structors and  for  methods  of  instruction;  third,  the  ad- 
justment of  the  student  body  to  these  changed  conditions, 
an  adjustment  effected  chiefly  through  the  elective  system, 
involving  changes  in  the  moral  as  well  as  intellectual 
habits  of  students.  Coincident  with  these  new  demands 
upon  the  colleges  —  a  fact  not  to  be  overlooked  —  was  a 
sudden  and  rapid  enlargement  of  the  constituency  of  the 
colleges,  brought  about  by  the  rise  of  the  high  school  as  a 
fitting  school  for  college.  According  to  the  statistics  of  the 
United  States  Commissioner  of  Education,  there  were 
in  1880  about  eight  hundred  high  schools  in  the  country, 
in  1890  twenty -five  hundred,  and  in  1900  over  six  thou- 
sand. Not  all  of  these  were  accepted  fitting  schools,  and 
only  a  proportion  of  students  in  the  competent  schools 
took  the  preparatory  courses.  But  the  number  of  com- 
petent schools,  and  of  students  in  preparation  for  college 
constantly  increased,  with  the  result  that  the  educational 
and  the  material  problems  of  the  colleges  were  perceptibly 
augmented.  And  to  these  specifications  must  be  added  the 
further  fact  applying  to  the  country  colleges,  that  the 
reconstruction  and  expansion  of  each  college,  so  situated, 
usually  required  the  transformation  of  the  village  in  which 


300  MY  GENERATION 

it  was  located.  The  material  changes  necessary  to  insure 
sanitation  and  economic  conveniences,  though  apparently 
elementary,  as  in  providing  for  an  adequate  supply  of 
water,  heat,  and  light,  were  often  far  reaching  and  costly. 

The  modernizing  process  at  Dartmouth  was  somewhat 
belated.  The  delay,  however,  was  not  altogether  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  College.  It  gave  the  opportunity  to 
determine  the  nature  of  the  expansion  of  which  the  College 
was  capable.  The  modernizing  of  the  colleges  was  not  an 
external  process  imposed  upon  all  alike  without  regard  to 
the  individuality  of  each.  It  was  in  all  cases  an  internal 
process,  subject  to  certain  inflexible  conditions,  but  in 
no  respect  a  purely  standardizing  process.  In  the  case  of 
Dartmouth,  it  was  determined  to  make  use  of  the  process 
to  test  the  capacity  of  the  College  for  expansion,  having 
in  mind  both  the  vigor  of  its  constitution  and  the  oppor- 
tunity for  stimulating  and  strenuous  exertion.  In  other 
words,  the  policy  adopted  was  not  that  of  a  programme. 
It  was  a  policy  of  inward  development,  determined  and 
measured  by  the  reach  of  its  resources,  by  the  response 
of  its  constituency,  and  by  the  return  of  its  increase  and 
enlargement  upon  itself.  Expansion  was  to  mark  the  limit 
of  the  productivity  of  the  College  under  the  most  stimu- 
lating treatment  consistent  with  safety.  The  process  of 
expansion  presented  itself  in  a  series  of  problems  —  the 
financial,  the  physical,  and  the  strictly  educational.  The 
physical  involved  the  reconstruction  of  the  college  plant; 
the  educational,  the  enlargement  of  the  curriculum  and 
the  increase  of  the  faculty. 

It  was  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  College  that  in 
the  work  now  before  it,  it  was  under  the  control  of  a  single 
board  of  management  and  that  not  too  large  for  respon- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  301 

sible  and  effective  action  —  the  Board  of  Trustees  con- 
sisting of  twelve  men  including  the  Governor  of  the  State 
ex-oficio.  The  Board  as  reconstituted  through  the  election 
of  five  alumni  members  acquired  fresh  strength.  The  situa- 
tion called  for  its  reorganization.  A  like  reorganization  of 
the  faculty  in  the  interest  of  administrative  effectiveness 
was  to  follow.  The  Board  of  Trustees  was  reorganized  to 
act  through  the  five  essential  committees,  on  finance,  in- 
struction, buildings  and  improvements,  on  the  relation  of 
the  College  to  the  alumni,  and  of  the  College  to  the  State. 
During  this  period,  1893-1909,  the  Chairman  of  the 
Committee  on  Finance  was  Judge  James  B.  Richardson, 
1893-1903,  and  the  Honorable  Benjamin  A.  Kimball, 
1903-1909;  Frank  S.  Streeter,  Esq.,  was  Chairman  of  the 
Committee  on  Buildings  and  Improvements  throughout 
the  entire  period;  and  the  successive  chairmen  of  the 
Committee  on  Instruction  were  Dr.  A.  H.  Quint,  1893-96, 
Dr.  C.  F.  P.  Bancroft,  1897-1901,  Dr.  Cyrus  Richardson, 
1901-06,  and  Professor  John  Robie  Eastman,  1906-1909. 
While  the  policy  of  educational  expansion  was  taking 
shape,  there  were  joint  committees  with  the  Faculty  on 
instruction  and  equipment  (including  library  and  labora- 
tories), and  on  degrees. 

It  was  also  fortunate  for  the  College  that  it  was  able  to 
enter  on  its  policy  of  expansion  through  a  process  of  con- 
traction which  contributed  in  marked  degree  to  its  unity. 
The  title  of  the  annual  catalogue  for  1892-93  ran  —  "  Cat- 
alogue of  Dartmouth  College  and  Associated  Institutions." 
The  Associated  Institutions  were  the  Medical  School 
(1798),  the  Chandler  School  of  Science  and  the  Arts  (1851), 
the  New  Hampshire  College  of  Agriculture  and  the  Me- 
chanic Arts  (1866),  and  the  Thayer  School  of  Civil  Engi- 


302  MY  GENERATION 

neering  and  Architecture  (1871).  During  the  academic 
year,  1892-93,  the  New  Hampshire  College  of  Agriculture 
and  the  Mechanic  Arts  was  removed  to  Durham,  and  the 
incorporation  of  the  Chandler  School  into  the  College  as 
a  scientific  course  leading  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Science  was  effected.  There  remained  only  the  Medical 
School  and  the  Thayer  School  to  be  readjusted. 

The  financial  policy  adopted  by  the  Trustees  was  not 
made  to  depend  upon  a  campaign  of  general  solicitation 
at  the  beginning  or  at  any  later  time.  In  this  respect  it 
differed  at  least  in  degree  from  the  traditional  and  current 
policy  of  the  colleges,  in  the  emphasis  placed  upon  their 
eleemosynary  character.  Colleges  legitimately  deserve  this 
character.  An  endowed  college  is  as  justly  a  subject  of 
public  benefaction  as  a  state  university  is  a  fit  subject  for 
public  taxation.  But  while  the  eleemosynary  theory  holds 
a  permanent  truth,  I  believe  that  it  should  never  be  per- 
mitted to  repress  the  ambition  or  to  lessen  the  sense  of 
responsibility  on  the  part  of  any  college  to  make  itself 
to  the  largest  extent  possible  a  self-supporting  institution. 
Especially  is  it  true  that  an  historic  college  is  not  war- 
ranted in  placing  itself  before  the  public  on  the  same  foot- 
ing with  a  college,  perhaps  of  like  character,  struggling  into 
existence.  The  historic  colleges  are  all  possessed  of  an 
intangible  wealth  which  can  be  made  productive.  They 
have  at  least  these  three  sources  of  self-support  —  first,  the 
earning  capacity  of  the  college;  second,  the  free,  though 
it  may  properly  be  the  organized  tribute  of  those  who 
have  profited  by  its  advantages;  third,  the  goodwill  if 
not  obligation,  of  a  large  constituency  associated  with  it 
through  its  history  or  through  its  activities.  The  essen- 
tial thing  in  the  financial  development  of  an  historic  col- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  303 

lege  is  the  order  in  which  it  shall  draw  upon  its  resources. 
This  I  believe  should  be  in  the  order  just  named.  The  an- 
tecedent conditions  on  which  an  established  college  may 
appeal  to  the  larger  public  are  the  assurance  that  its  earn- 
ing capacity  has  been  properly  developed,  and  some  clear 
evidence  of  the  appropriate  support  of  its  graduates.  The 
criticism  to  be  passed  upon  most  of  the  endowed  colleges 
was  that  of  a  disproportionate  reliance  upon  their  endow- 
ments. No  equivalent  effort  was  made  to  increase  their 
earning  power. 

The  policy  of  beginning  the  work  of  expansion  at  Dart- 
mouth by  developing  to  the  fullest  extent  the  earning 
power  of  the  College  required  no  little  courage  and  faith, 
but  sufficient  means  were  within  reach,  if  not  in  hand,  to 
justify  the  effort.  The  most  substantial  of  these  resources 
was  the  Tappan  Wentworth  fund,  the  bequest  (1875)  of 
the  Honorable  Tappan  Wentworth,  a  native  of  New 
Hampshire,  of  the  Governor  Wentworth  stock,  to  become 
available  for  the  uses  of  the  College  when  the  amount 
bequeathed,  $300,000,  should  reach  $500,000.  The  prop- 
erty consisted  mainly  of  real  estate  in  the  city  of  Lowell, 
where  Mr.  Wentworth  passed  his  professional  career.  At 
the  instance  of  Mr.  C.  W.  Spalding  of  the  Board  of  Trus- 
tees, three  appraisers,  citizens  of  Lowell,  selected  by  the 
officers  of  one  of  the  Lowell  banks,  were  appointed  to 
value  the  estate.  It  was  found  that  the  estate  had  reached 
the  amount  required  for  its  use  by  the  College,  subject  to 
the  liquidation  of  two  small  mortgages,  and  to  the  pay- 
ment from  the  income  of  certain  considerable  annuities. 
The  fund  would  become  operative  in  two  years,  though 
not  free  from  annuities  for  an  indefinite  time.  Other- 
wise the  fund  was  without  conditions,  and  could  be  ap- 


304  MY  GENERATION 

plied,  where  it  was  most  needed,  to  the  increase  of  the 
Faculty  and  the  extension  of  the  curriculum. 

Two  other  funds  (for  specified  purposes)  were  of  timely 
aid  —  one  the  bequest  of  $140,000  by  Dr.  Ralph  Butter- 
field  of  Kansas  City,  a  graduate  of  the  class  of  1839,  avail- 
able for  the  organization  of  the  Biological  Department; 
the  other  the  gift  of  $175,000,  subject  to  minor  annuities, 
by  Mr.  Charles  T.  Wilder,  a  generous  neighbor  in  the 
adjacent  manufacturing  village  of  Olcott  Falls  (now 
Wilder),  available  for  the  extension  of  the  Department 
of  Physics.  To  these  funds  are  due  the  first  of  the  perma- 
nent buildings  in  this  period  of  construction  —  the  Butter- 
field  Museum,  and  the  Wilder  Laboratory. 

Very  timely  aid  at  this  juncture  came  from  the  State 
through  a  grant  by  the  legislature  of  1893-94  of  $15,000, 
to  be  divided  between  the  two  years.  This  grant  was 
especially  significant  (despite  the  fact  that  the  appropri- 
ation of  the  next  legislature  was  vetoed  by  the  Governor), 
as  establishing  a  policy  of  state  cooperation.  Subsequent 
appropriations  have  been:  1897-98,  $10,000;  1899-1900, 
$20,000;  1901-02,  $30,000;  1903-04  and  subsequently 
within  the  period,  $40,000.  This  recognition  of  itself  by  the 
State  as  a  legitimate  partner  in  developing  the  earning 
power  of  the  College  was  consistent  with  the  chartered  re- 
lations of  State  and  College,  and  with  the  early  traditions. 
By  the  charter  of  the  College,  the  Governor  of  the  State  is  a 
member  ex-officio  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and  the  Gover- 
nor's Councillors  are  Trustees  on  all  matters  relating  to  any 
funds  given  by  the  State,  as  in  the  care  of  the  second  Col- 
lege Grant.  In  making  this  particular  grant,  the  State  ex- 
pressed its  desire  to  have  a  part  in  the  general  as  well  as 
local  work  of  the  College  —  "to  render  it  still  more  useful 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  305 

in  all  future  time  in  promoting  literature  (and  elsewhere 
'science')  among  all  mankind."  But  particularly  the 
State,  in  inaugurating  this  special  system  of  annual  appro- 
priation, recognized  its  obligation  to  make  some  appro- 
priate return  for  the  expense  incurred  by  the  College  in 
the  education  of  its  sons.  The  preamble,  introducing  the 
annual  appropriation,  was  as  follows  —  "Whereas,  in  the 
education  of  New  Hampshire  students  Dartmouth  College 

is  annually  expending  more  than dollars  above  all 

amounts  received  for  tuition,  or  grants  from  the  State  or 
its  citizens,  and  whereas  the  policy  of  aiding  the  College  in 
its  educational  work  by  annual  appropriations  has  become 
definitely  established  in  the  State,  be  it  enacted,"  etc. 

By  far  the  most  serviceable  fund,  however,  for  the 
carrying-out  of  the  full  scheme  of  the  Trustees  was  the 
Fayerweather,  which  was  set  apart,  consistently  with  the 
terms  of  the  bequest,  as  a  fund  to  meet  the  annual  deficits 
inevitable  during  a  period  of  reconstruction.  The  greater 
part  of  the  large  estate  of  Mr.  Daniel  B.  Fayerweather, 
a  philanthropic  merchant  of  New  York,  had  been  be- 
queathed to  several  educational  institutions.  After  some- 
what protracted  litigation,  the  portion  which  ultimately 
fell  to  Dartmouth,  amounted  to  $223,000.  Upon  receipt 
of  the  first  installment  of  $100,000,  less  certain  costs  of 
litigation,  the  Trustees  had  voted  (February  8,  1892)  to 
appropriate  the  sum  of  $66,500  to  extinguish  the  debt  in- 
curred by  accumulated  deficits.  This  vote  gave  the  sug- 
gestion of  utilizing  any  further  installments  of  the  bequest 
as  a  profit  and  loss  reconstruction  fund.  The  whole  of  the 
remaining  portion  of  the  fund  was  so  used,  and  in  this  use 
rendered  an  invaluable  service  to  the  College.  The  name 
of  Mr.  Fayerweather  is  perpetuated  in  the  Fayerweather 


306  MY  GENERATION 

Row  of  dormitories,  but  the  effect  of  his  bequest  cannot  be 
localized.  No  fund  of  many  times  its  value,  if  it  had  been 
restricted  in  its  uses,  could  have  served  an  equal  purpose 
at  this  juncture  in  the  development  of  the  College. 

A  further  relief  of  the  financial  situation  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  initial  improvements  necessary  to  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  the  college  plant  were  of  a  kind  to  be  at  once 
and  permanently  remunerative.  This  fact  allowed,  under 
proper  limitations,  the  investment  of  certain  undesignated 
funds  of  the  College  in  its  own  development.  The  ele- 
mentary improvements  had  to  do  with  the  physical  prob- 
lems of  a  college  in  the  country  —  water,  heat,  light,  and 
sanitation.  The  first  improvement  was  the  introduction 
of  an  abundant  supply  of  water  into  the  Precinct  of 
Hanover  at  a  cost  of  $65,000,  the  College  investing  $25,000 
and  the  Precinct  $20,000,  the  remaining  $20,000  being 
bonded.  At  a  later  period  the  entire  watershed  of  about 
1400  acres  surrounding  the  reservoir  was  purchased  at  a 
cost  of  $34,000.  The  whole  investment,  which  was  a  san- 
itary necessity,  proved  to  be  valuable  pecuniarily.  This 
improvement  was  followed  by  the  inauguration  of  a  heat- 
ing plant  at  a  cost  of  $77,000,  containing  a  battery  of  8 
boilers  of  125  horse-power  each,  operating  through  7900 
feet  of  steam  pipe,  and  heating  39  college  buildings;  to 
which  was  added  an  electric  lighting  plant  at  a  cost  of 
$34,000,  running  three  dynamos  of  75  K.W.  each  and 
equipped  for  power  service  wherever  needed  in  the  College, 
as  well  as  for  lighting. 

So  far  as  I  can  learn,  Dartmouth  was  the  first  college,  at 
least  in  New  England,  to  inaugurate  and  operate  an  in- 
dependent heating  and  lighting  system.  The  innovation 
has  been  as  successful  financially,  as  it  has  been  advan- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  307 

tageous  in  other  respects.  After  paying  all  charges,  includ- 
ing interest  account  and  depreciation,  there  has  been  a 
considerable  annual  surplus  applied  to  the  liquidation  of 
the  invested  fund.  In  1909,  the  Treasurer  reported  a  reduc- 
tion of  $24,000  on  the  original  investment  of  $117,000;  in 
1917,  a  reduction  of  $89,000  on  an  investment  of  $153,000. 
.  In  providing  for  the  departments  of  instruction,  new 
and  old,  it  was  planned  that  each  department  or  each  re- 
lated group  of  departments  should  have  its  own  building 
or  buildings  constructed  with  reference  to  its  special  needs. 
Following  this  plan,  the  Butterfield  Museum  was  built  in 
1895  for  the  Departments  of  Geology,  Biology,  and  Soci- 
ology; Wilder  Hall  in  1899  for  the  Department  of  Physics; 
the  Chandler  Building  (remodeled)  in  1898  for  the  De- 
partments of  Mathematics  and  Engineering;  Tuck  Hall 
in  1904  for  the  Tuck  School,  but  providing  for  the  time 
for  the  Departments  of  History,  Economics,  and  Political 
Science;  Dartmouth  Hall,  rebuilt  by  the  alumni  in  1904, 
for  the  Departments  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Languages, 
and  Philosophy;  and  Webster  Hall,  erected  by  the  alumni 
in  1907  for  the  use  of  the  College  on  all  academic  occa- 
sions. In  1909,  plans  had  been  accepted  for  a  New  Gym- 
nasium to  be  built  from  funds  contributed  chiefly  by  the 
younger  alumni.  The  corner  stone  was  laid  by  President 
Nichols  at  his  Inauguration. 

The  re-creation  of  a  college  plant  in  a  village  like  Han- 
over involved  the  problem  of  housing  and  otherwise  caring 
for  students  as  well  as  of  providing  adequate  lecture- 
rooms  and  laboratories.  With  the  natural  increase  of 
students  the  resources  of  the  village  were  quickly  ex- 
hausted. It  was  necessary  to  devise  a  system  of  dormi- 
tories adequate  to  meet  the  rapidly  growing  demands  of 


308  MY  GENERATION 

the  College.  Since  the  old  dormitories,  Thornton,  Went- 
worth,  Reed,  and  Hallgarten,  accommodating  about  two 
hundred  students,  were  outgrown,  new  dormitories  were 
created  in  the  following  order:  Sanborn  House  (50  stu- 
dents), 1894;  Crosby  House  (45),  1896;  Richardson  (50), 
1897;  Fayerweather  (85),  1900;  Hubbard  House  (20),  1899; 
College  Hall,  including  Club  House  and  Commons  (40), 
1901;  Elm  House  (20),  1901;  Wheeler  (98),  1905;  Hubbard 
No.  2  (48),  1906;  Fayerweather  North  and  South  (100), 
1907;  Massachusetts  (88),  1907;  New  Hampshire  (107), 
1908. 

The  newer  buildings  making  up  the  college  plant  were 
about  equally  divided  between  non-productive  and  pro- 
ductive buildings.  The  non-productive  buildings  were  in 
all  cases  erected  out  of  funds  which  came  to  the  College  by 
bequest  or  by  gift  for  the  uses  to  which  they  were  put  — 
Butterfield,  Wilder,  Chandler,  Tuck,  New  Dartmouth, 
and  Webster.  The  productive  buildings,  including  most  of 
the  dormitories,  were  built  as  investments.  The  amount 
thus  invested  during  the  period  of  reconstruction  was 
$901,000,  including  cost  of  improvements,  like  water 
supply,  heat,  and  electricity.  Had  the  Trustees  limited 
the  growth  of  the  College  to  the  results  attending  the 
solicitation  of  funds  for  productive  buildings,  they  would 
have  restricted  the  College  to  the  fortune  of  charity,  or 
have  given  over  the  dormitory  system  to  private  enter- 
prise, as  in  the  earlier  stages  of  development  at  Cornell, 
and  at  certain  periods  in  the  expansion  of  Harvard.  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  refer  later  to  the  social  significance  of 
the  exclusion  of  private  dormitories,  but  I  note  at  once 
the  sanitary  effect  of  the  control  of  the  dormitory  sys- 
tem as  evidenced  by  the  very  unusual  health  record  of 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  309 

the  students  under  the  inspection  of  the  dormitories  by 
Dr.  Kingsford,  the  Medical  Director  of  the  College. 

The  local  problem  involved  in  the  physical  expansion 
of  the  College  was  not  easy  of  solution.  The  village  of 
Hanover  had  grown  up  around  three  sides  of  an  open 
area  known  at  different  times  as  the  "common,"  the 
"campus,"  and  by  official  designation  (vote  of  the  Trus- 
tees, March  17, 1906)  as  the  "  College  Green. "  "  The  title  to 
this  tract  came  to  the  College  by  grant  from  the  Province 
in  1771,  and  by  prior  deed  from  Benning  Wentworth,  and 
had  never  been  alienated."  This  tract  of  about  four  acres 
is  in  the  form  of  a  rectangle,  almost  a  square,  and  is  bor- 
dered on  all  sides  by  rows  of  stately  elms.  It  is  a  fine  level 
green,  broken  only  by  intersecting  paths.  Before  the  days 
of  organized  athletics  it  was  used  as  the  athletic  field  of  the 
College,  and  is  still  a  college  playground,  though  kept  as 
a  lawn. 

The  college  yard  containing  most  of  the  college  build- 
ings lay  directly  across  College  Street  to  the  east.  The 
yard  was  the  lower  and  more  level  part  of  the  college 
park,  a  tract  of  about  forty  acres  rising  toward  the 
north  and  east  into  a  rocky  ridge,  on  the  summit  of  which 
stood  the  observatory.  The  question  of  the  further  physical 
development  of  the  College  was,  whether  it  should  utilize 
the  park  by  means  of  a  system  of  terraces,  or  whether  it 
should  seek  to  secure  the  requisite  space  by  the  purchase 
of  the  residential  parts  of  the  village  adjacent  to  the  Com- 
mon. The  matter  was  referred  to  Olmstead  Brothers,  the 
well-known  landscape  architects,  who  sent  as  their  repre- 
sentative Mr.  Charles  Eliot,  son  of  President  Eliot,  to 
make  the  necessary  investigation.  The  advice  based  upon 
the  report  of  Mr.  Eliot  was  strongly  against  the  use  of  the 


310  MY  GENERATION 

college  park,  for  two  reasons  —  the  large  expense  of  grad- 
ing, especially  in  connection  with  any  general  plan  of 
heating,  and  the  aesthetic  loss  in  converting  so  unique  a 
possession  as  the  college  park  to  purely  utilitarian  uses, 
which  might  in  the  end  prove  insufficient.  The  college  park 
had  been  made  an  object  of  rare  beauty  through  the  im- 
portation by  Chief  Justice  Joel  Parker,  class  of  1811,  of 
foreign  trees  and  shrubs  which  could  be  readily  acclimated, 
and  had  been  developed  according  to  its  natural  advan- 
tages under  the  enthusiastic  direction  of  President  Bart- 
lett.  The  stone  tower  bearing  his  name,  which  crowns  the 
summit  of  the  ridge,  replacing  in  most  timely  way  the 
"Old  Pine"  which  had  been  struck  by  lightning,  is  a  fit 
memorial,  a  reminder  alike  of  his  zeal  and  of  his  taste. 

The  alternative  to  the  park  plan,  known  as  the  quad- 
rangle plan,  which  was  adopted,  was  by  no  means  inex- 
pensive or  otherwise  free  from  difficulties.  It  called  for 
the  purchase  of  the  entire  residential  property  around  the 
Common.  Naturally  the  market  value  of  the  property 
responded  quickly  to  the  proposed  change.  Very  properly 
too,  the  prospect  of  being  dispossessed  of  their  old-time 
homes  was  not  welcome  to  many.  Neither  was  it  an  alto- 
gether pleasing  thought  to  those  who  were  to  carry  out  the 
process,  to  be  the  means  of  breaking  up  the  quiet  beauty 
of  a  New  England  village,  even  though  offering  in  ex- 
change the  architectural  effects  of  college  buildings.  It 
was,  however,  some  relief  that  a  break  had  already  been 
made  by  business,  and  that  two  valuable  estates  had 
come  into  possession  of  the  College,  while  a  third  was  in 
the  market.  A  beginning  could  be  made  in  harmony  with 
the  general  plan  of  expansion.  Two  things  were  kept  in 
view  as  the  process  went  on,  the  maintenance  of  the 


»po  Stoo  M| 


Existing  construction  previous  to  1893. 


Map  of 
Dartmouth  College 

HANOVER.  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 


KEY  TO  PRINCIPAL  BUILDINGS  INDICATED 


( With  dates  of  construction  and  additions) 


1.  Dartmouth  Hall,  1791.  Rebuilt, 

1905.  [structed,  1912. 

2.  Wentworth  Hall,  1828.     Recon- 

3.  Thornton  Dormitory,  1828.    Re- 

constructed, 1912. 

4.  North     Fayerweather     Dormi- 

tory, 1907. 

5.  Fayerweather  Dormitory,  1900. 

6.  South     Fayerweather     Dormi- 

tory, 1906.     Rebuilt,  1910. 

7.  Reed  Dormitory,  1838. 

8.  Bartlett  Hall,  1890. 

9.  Culver  Laboratory,  1870. 

10.  Rollins  Chapel,  1885,  1908,  1912. 

11.  Richardson  Dormitory.  1898. 

12.  Wheeler  Dormitory,  1905. 

13.  Wilder  Laboratory,  1899. 

14.  Medical   Building,  about   1810, 

1873,  1894. 


15.  Nathan  Smith  Laboratory,  1908. 

16.  Shattuck  Observatory,  1854. 

17.  Bartlett  Tower,  1885-95. 

18.  Butterfield  Museum,  1896. 

19.  The    "  College  "    Church,    1796, 

1877,  1889. 

20.  Webster  Auditorium,  1907. 

21.  Crosby  Dormitory,  1896. 

22.  Hitchcock  Dormitorv,  1913. 

23.  Hubbard       Dormitory.       1906. 

Moved,  1910. 

24.  Chandler    Mathematics    Build- 

ing, 1791.  Addition,  1898. 

25.  Massachusetts        Dormitories, 

1907,  1912. 

26.  Parkhurst  Administration 

Building,  1910. 

27.  Tuck  School  of  Administration, 

1904. 


28.  Sanborn        Dormitorv*,        1895. 

Moved,  1913. 

29.  Robinson     Student     Building-, 

1914. 

30.  College  Hall,  1901. 

31.  The      Hanover     Inn.       Recon- 

structed, 1902. 

32.  Thayer  School  of  Engineering, 

1866.  Reconstructed,  1911. 

33.  Wilson  Library,  1885. 

34.  New     Hampshire     Dormitory, 

1908. 

35.  Hallgarten  Dormitory. 

36.  Isolation  Hospital. 

37.  Heating    Plant,   1898.    Electric 

Plant,  1905. 

38.  Store  House  and  Shops,  1916. 

39.  Alumni  Gymnasium,  1910. 

40.  Alumni  Athletic  Field,  1893. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  311 

proportionate  amount  of  taxable  property,  and  suitable 
provision  for  residential  removals.  For  the  latter  purpose 
a  new  residential  region  lying  to  the  north  and  west  was 
made  accessible  through  the  opening  of  Webster  Avenue 
and  Occom  Ridge. 

The  accompanying  map  shows  the  location  of  new 
buildings  during  the  period  of  reconstruction.  As  will 
be  seen,  the  pressure  for  room  still  remained  in  spite  of 
the  further  use  of  the  college  park,  and  of  the  compact 
arrangement  of  buildings  on  the  west  side.  Fortunately  a 
new  and  most  valuable  tract  was  added  to  the  college 
property  through  the  assured  transfer  of  the  Hiram 
Hitchcock  lands,  extending  from  the  Main  Street  of  the 
village  to  the  river,  and  comprising  nearly  forty  acres. 
The  negotiation  was  effected  by  Mr.  Charles  P.  Chase, 
the  treasurer  of  the  College,  who  was  also  a  personal 
friend  and  adviser  of  Mrs.  Hitchcock.  Too  much  credit 
cannot  be  given  to  the  sagacity  and  tact  of  Mr.  Chase 
in  securing  local  advantages  of  great  value  to  the  Col- 
lege, particularly  of  the  Hitchcock  tract,  nor  to  the  loyal 
and  public  action  of  Mrs.  Hitchcock  in  making  this  gift 
of  the  Hitchcock  estate.  Although  the  transfer  of  the 
property  did  not  actually  take  effect  till  after  the  death 
of  Mrs.  Hitchcock  in  the  year  1912,  the  negotiations  as 
already  effected  in  1908  gave  the  College  the  assurance  of 
ample  provision  for  all  future  plans  of  expansion.  The 
College  Green  as  the  center  of  the  college  property  was 
now  flanked  on  the  east  and  on  the  west  by  tracts  of  about 
forty  acres  each,  each  tract  offering  in  its  own  way  the 
finest  possible  opportunity  for  effective  treatment  —  an 
opportunity  already  improved  in  part  by  the  opening  of 
the  Tuck  Drive  through  the  Hitchcock  estate.  The  pos- 


312  MY  GENERATION 

session  by  the  College  of  these  related  properties  gives  an 
impressive  unity  to  its  development,  leaving  the  valuable 
tract  of  pine  forest  to  the  north  for  public  uses,  under  the 
joint  control  of  the  College  and  the  Precinct  of  Hanover. 

The  architectural  development  of  the  College  was  a  re- 
turn to  the  original  type.  Dartmouth  Hall  had  long  been 
recognized  as  a  choice  example  of  the  college  architecture 
of  the  colonial  period,  of  which  the  only  other  surviving 
examples  of  distinction  were  Nassau  Hall  at  Princeton 
and  University  Hall  at  Brown.  The  more  recent  buildings 
at  Dartmouth  had  brought  in  a  variety  of  type  according 
to  the  taste  of  the  particular  architect  employed.  It  was 
determined  that  henceforth  there  should  be  unity  of  de- 
sign in  construction,  and  that  the  controlling  type  should 
be  that  of  the  colonial  college,  with  such  modifications  as 
the  necessary  uses  of  any  buildings  might  require.  To 
insure  this  end,  the  work  of  construction,  and  so  far  as 
practicable  of  reconstruction,  was  entrusted  to  a  single 
architect  —  Mr.  Charles  A.  Rich,  of  New  York,  at  the 
time  of  the  firm  of  Lamb  &  Rich.  When  the  approach  was 
made  to  Mr.  Rich,  the  fact  was  not  recalled  that  he  was  a 
graduate  of  the  College,  but  this  fact  proved  to  be  of 
great  significance  in  the  devotion  and  generosity  of  his 
labors.  As  the  College  took  shape  under  his  direction,  the 
scope,  the  refinement,  and  the  ingenuity  of  his  skill  be- 
came more  and  more  apparent.  It  was  a  considerable  dis- 
tance in  time  from  the  restoration  of  the  Crosby  House  to 
the  production  of  the  interior  of  Webster  Hall,  but  the 
shaping  hand  was  at  all  points  the  same. 

"Improvements"  and  construction  called  for  competent 
superintendence.  The  Trustees  were  fortunate  in  being 
able  to  commit  this  work  in  succession  to  two  civil  engin- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  313 

eers,  graduates  of  the  College  and  of  the  Thayer  School, 
to  Mr.  A.  A.  McKenzie,  and  after  his  death  in  1904  to 
Mr.  E.  H.  Hunter.  In  each  case  superintendence  developed 
into  constructive  service.  The  heating  plant  and  system 
was  largely  the  result  of  Mr.  McKenzie's  industry  and 
skill.  The  construction  of  the  later  buildings  of  the 
period  was  entrusted  more  and  more  to  Mr.  Hunter,  to 
the  marked  advantage  of  the  College  in  economy.  A 
peculiarly  skillful  piece  of  engineering  was  the  moving 
back  forty  feet  of  the  stone  apse  of  Rollins  Chapel  for 
the  insertion,  according  to  the  unique  design  of  Professor 
Keyes,  of  a  choir  with  little  chapels  on  either  side  —  a  de- 
sign which  added  much  to  the  interior  perspective,  and 
nearly  doubled  the  capacity  of  the  chapel.  Further  de- 
mands for  superintendence  arose  in  connection  with  the 
management  of  the  Commons,  after  the  erection  of  College 
Hall,  and  also  of  the  Inn  after  the  Trustees  decided  to 
take  direct  charge  of  it  rather  than  to  lease  it.  Mr. 
Henry  N.  Teague,  just  graduated  from  the  first  class  in 
the  Tuck  School,  was  made  Controller  of  the  College 
Club,  including  the  Commons,  and  Mr.  Arthur  P.  Fair- 
field, a  graduate  of  the  class  of  1900,  who  had  had  suc- 
cessful experience  in  hotel  service,  was  made  business 
manager  of  the  Inn.  During  the  period  of  physical  ex- 
pansion the  officers  of  administration  were  in  the  Lord 
House,  at  the  head  of  the  College  Green,  the  former 
residence  of  President  Lord.  Parkhurst  Hall,  the  present 
commodious  administration  building,  the  gift  of  Lewis 
Parkhurst  of  the  class  of  1878,  was  first  occupied  in 
1911. 

The  educational  expansion  of  the  College  necessarily 
adjusted  itself  to  existing  conditions.  It  meant  in  part  the 


314  MY  GENERATION 

introduction  of  entirely  new  subjects  like  biology  and 
sociology  into  the  curriculum,  in  part  the  organization  of 
unorganized  or  attached  subjects  like  history  and  eco- 
nomics into  departments,  in  part  the  disproportionate 
increase  of  the  teaching  force  in  some  departments  as 
especially  in  the  modern  languages,  and  generally  an 
enlargement  of  the  Faculty.  More  money  naturally  was 
expended  for  equipment  in  the  direction  of  the  sciences 
than  in  any  other;  but  as  a  further  and  very  definite  part 
of  the  expansion  effected  came  in  through  the  relative 
place  assigned  to  the  new  humanities,  history,  economics, 
sociology,  and  the  newer  forms  of  political  science,  the 
increase  of  expenditure  here,  both  in  equipment  and 
teaching  force,  was  relatively  great.  Taking  the  three 
sections  into  which  the  curriculum  of  the  College  was 
divided,  —  the  Departments  of  Language  and  Literature; 
Mathematics  and  the  Physical  and  Natural  Sciences; 
History,  the  Social  and  Political  Sciences,  and  Philosophy, 
—  little  difference  appears  in  the  expense  of  the  first  two 
groups;  the  first  group  costing  somewhat  more  for  salaries, 
the  second  for  equipment.  The  third  group  represents 
about  three  fourths  of  the  expense  of  either  of  the  others. 
The  extension  of  the  subject-matter  of  the  curriculum 
enlarged  the  intellectual  horizon  of  the  College;  so  also 
did  the  introduction  in  considerable  numbers  of  new  men 
into  the  Faculty,  many  of  whom  were  from  other  colleges. 
Of  the  one  hundred  and  twenty  appointments  made  to  the 
academic  Faculty  during  the  sixteen  years  of  my  admin- 
istration (the  enumeration  does  not  include  the  faculties 
in  the  Associated  Schools),  forty-eight  were  of  graduates 
of  the  College,  seventy -two  were  of  graduates  of  other 
colleges.  Classifying  these  appointments  by  grades: 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  315 

To  professorships,  Dartmouth  graduates 4 

graduates  of  other  colleges 12     16 

To  assistant  professorships,  Dartmouth  graduates 19 

graduates  of  other  colleges 25    44 

To  instructorships,  Dartmouth  graduates 25 

graduates  of  other  colleges 35    60    120 

The  composition  of  the  Academic  Faculty  at  the  close  of 
my  administration  was: 

Professors,  Dartmouth  graduates 14 

graduates  of  other  colleeges 12    26 

Assistant  Professors,  Dartmouth  graduates 14 

graduates  of  other  colleges 14     28 

Instructors,  Dartmouth  graduates 9 

graduates  of  other  colleges 10    19      73 


Thirty  colleges  and  universities  were  represented  by  the 
bachelor's  degree  and  twenty-four  by  advanced  degrees. 
Twelve  additional  teachers  in  the  Associated  Schools 
gave  instruction  in  the  College. 

Nowhere  was  the  modernizing  process  more  evident 
than  in  the  changes  it  wrought  in  professional  habits.  No 
term,  for  example,  would  have  been  more  unfamiliar,  or 
in  most  cases  unacceptable  to  the  members  of  an  old-time 
faculty  than  the  term  "office"  as  a  substitute  for  the  al- 
together congenial  term  "study."  But  the  new  buildings 
brought  in  offices  adjacent  to  the  classrooms,  and  the 
Faculty  began  to  announce  office  hours.  All  the  common 
activities  associated  with  instruction  centered  in  the  of- 
fice —  that  of  the  Dean,  which  soon  added  to  itself  the 
offices  of  registration.  The  advance  in  demands  of  this 
form  of  administrative  service  was  rapid.  When  Professor 
Emerson  was  asked  in  1893  to  serve  as  Dean,  it  was  with 


3i 6  MY  GENERATION 

the  understanding  that  he  should  retain  his  place  as  head 
of  the  Department  of  Physics.  Within  five  years  he  found 
the  combination  impracticable  and  gave  over,  though  re- 
luctantly, his  teaching,  and  shortly  after  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
who  had  been  his  assistant,  was  made  Registrar  with  his 
own  assistants.  Acting  in  harmony  with  this  general  tend- 
ency the  Faculty  proceeded  to  do  its  business  more  and 
more  by  delegating  its  powers  to  committees.  Without 
doubt  committee  service  is  the  bane  of  a  professor's  life; 
but  most  professors  found  themselves  in  this  dilemma  — 
either  to  do  the  drudgery  often  imposed  by  the  new  task, 
or  to  be  left  out  of  the  account  in  making  up  the  new  po- 
sitions of  faculty  influence  and  authority.  The  advantage 
of  committee  service  became  more  evidently  desirable 
when  the  appointment  of  committees,  even  of  the  nom- 
inating committee,  was  given  over  by  the  President  en- 
tirely into  the  hands  of  the  Faculty. 

The  changes  here  noted  could  not  have  been  effected 
without  the  ready  and  even  hearty  cooperation  of  the 
Faculty.  Nothing,  for  example,  could  have  been  more  de- 
lightfully helpful  than  the  hospitality  of  the  older  mem- 
bers not  only  toward  the  incoming  members,  but  also 
toward  the  new  subjects  introduced  into  the  curriculum, 
and  toward  the  new  methods  of  instruction  and  adminis- 
tration. The  utter  absence  of  friction  in  the  transition  from 
the  old  to  the  new,  or  from  simple  to  more  complicated 
ways,  was  due  entirely  to  the  spirit  of  the  Faculty,  which 
was  not  that  of  acquiescence  but  of  enthusiastic  support. 
The  hospitality  of  the  older  members  was  matched  by  the 
tactful  adjustment  of  the  incoming  members  to  existing 
conditions,  most  of  whom  were  strangers  to  Dartmouth. 
I  recall  those  called  to  the  headship  of  departments  during 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  317 

the  first  year  —  C.  D.  Adams  in  Greek;  D.  C.  Wells  in 
Sociology;  William  Patten  in  Biology;  H.  D.  Foster  in 
History;  F.  B.  Emery  to  a  new  professorship  in  English  — 
and  next  after,  F.  H.  Dixon  in  Economics;  E.  F.  Nichols 
in  Physics;  and  L.  H.  Dow  in  French.  The  death  of  Pro- 
fessor Pollens,  a  man  of  rare  linguistic  and  literary  attain- 
ments, left  the  chair  of  French  in  a  most  necessitous  con- 
dition at  a  time  when  large  demands  were  being  made 
upon  it  from  the  new  position  of  the  Modern  Languages 
in  the  curriculum.  It  was  quite  impossible  to  repeat  Pro- 
fessor Pollens's  type  —  himself  a  native  Swiss,  educated 
in  this  country;  and  the  graduate  schools  had  not  begun 
to  do  satisfactory  work  in  the  modern  languages.  In  this 
dilemma  Mr.  Louis  H.  Dow,  a  classical  scholar  who  had 
served  for  a  year  as  a  substitute  in  the  Department  of 
Greek,  was  asked  to  make  his  classical  equipment  a  foun- 
dation for  specialized  training  in  French.  The  offer  was 
accepted,  with  the  understanding  that  he  should  have  the 
right  of  way  in  reorganizing  the  French  Department,  a  de- 
partment which  in  1908-09  was  made  up  of  one  professor, 
three  assistant  professors,  and  five  instructors.  I  cite  this 
instance  as  an  illustration  of  methods  which  happily  came 
to  the  relief  of  the  College  at  a  time  when  there  was  a 
scarcity  of  men  already  prepared  by  special  graduate 
training  for  the  headship  of  new  departments,  or  of  de- 
partments under  the  pressure  of  enforced  expansion.  It 
was  very  fortunate  that  in  this  particular  emergency  the 
Modern  Languages  could  be  underwritten  by  the  Classics. 
While  taking  note  of  the  changes  attending  the  enlarge- 
ment and  reconstruction  of  the  Faculty,  it  is  of  interest 
to  note  the  change  which  took  place  in  the  student  body, 
especially  in  the  distribution  of  students  according  to 


318  MY  GENERATION 

locality.  It  will  be  seen  how  definitely  the  process  of  na- 
tionalizing the  College  had  begun  to  take  effect  within  the 
period  of  reconstruction.  In  the  Catalogue  of  1893-94 
the  registration  stood  by  localities  —  New  England,  427; 
Middle  States,  34;  Near  West,  21;  Beyond  the  Mississippi, 
11.  In  the  Catalogue  of  1908-09  the  registration  stood  — 
New  England,  839  (Massachusetts,  502,  New  Hampshire, 
197,  other  New  England  States,  140);  Middle  States,  149; 
Near  West,  98;  Beyond  the  Mississippi,  48. 

An  amusing  illustration  of  the  tendency  to  generalize 
according  to  preconceived  notions  rather  than  according 
to  ascertained  facts,  appeared  in  the  comment  of  a  New 
York  daily  on  the  success  in  the  same  year  of  the  Dart- 
mouth football  team  over  those  of  Harvard  and  Princeton. 
The  success  was  attributed  to  the  physique  of  the  men 
from  the  farms  and  lumber  regions  of  northern  New  Eng- 
land. As  a  matter  of  fact  the  team  for  that  year  was  made 
up  chiefly  of  fellows  from  Western  cities. 

Foreseeing  the  exactions  of  the  presidency  on  the  ad- 
ministrative side,  I  had  renounced  in  advance  all  hope  of 
teaching.  In  this  respect  my  course  was  in  almost  painful 
contrast,  as  I  often  felt,  with  that  of  one  of  my  younger 
contemporaries  —  President  Hyde,  of  Bowdoin  —  who 
was  able  in  the  midst  of  executive  duties  to  make  his  chair 
of  instruction  a  seat  of  power.  As  for  myself,  instead  of 
assuming  the  teaching  function  I  did  not  hesitate  to  avail 
myself  of  the  most  valuable  aids  in  my  administrative 
duties.  Professor  John  K.  Lord  was  made  Acting  President 
of  the  Faculty  in  the  absence  of  the  President.  This  ap- 
pointment meant  much  more  to  me  than  the  freedom  of 
often  prolonged  absences  among  the  alumni.  It  meant  the 
privilege  of  constant  and  most  helpful  advice.  Later,  and 


EDWARD  TUCK 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  319 

especially  during  the  period  of  my  illness  while  still  in 
office,  the  promotion  of  Mr.  Ernest  M.  Hopkins,  who  had 
been  my  private  secretary,  to  be  Secretary  of  the  College, 
enabled  me  to  relieve  myself  of  certain  definite  responsi- 
bilities. The  evidence  of  administrative  qualities  of  the 
highest  order  gave  the  assurance  of  entire  competency  to 
meet  the  changed  conditions. 

About  midway  in  the  process  of  reconstruction,  the  Col- 
lege began  to  receive  the  aid  of  the  benefactions  of  Edward 
Tuck  of  the  class  of  1862,  then  residing  in  Paris.  I  refer 
distinctly  and  separately  to  the  cooperation  of  Mr.  Tuck 
because  of  its  timely  significance.  It  was  the  most  im- 
portant individual  factor  in  the  reconstruction  and  ex- 
pansion of  the  College.  The  amount  of  his  benefactions, 
and  equally  their  object  gave  security  to  the  advances  al- 
ready made,  and  enabled  the  College  in  due  time  to  take 
the  initiative  in  a  new  field  of  academic  training.  They 
also  gave  direct  moral  support  to  the  policy  of  the  admin- 
istration. Mr.  Tuck  was  the  first  of  the  alumni  of  means 
to  identify  himself  financially  with  what  had  begun  to  be 
known  as  the  "New  Dartmouth";  and  his  aid  preceded 
any  organized  or  collective  financial  support  on  the  part  of 
the  alumni.  It  was  the  more  gratifying  and  assuring  that 
it  was  altogether  unsolicited,  indeed  unlooked  for.  Mr. 
Tuck  had  spent  most  of  his  time  abroad  since  his  gradu- 
ation. Appointed  to  the  consular  service  in  Paris  the  year 
after  he  left  college,  he  passed  directly  from  that  service 
into  the  banking  house  of  Munroe  and  Company;  and 
although  he  was,  during  the  greater  part  of  his  connection 
with  the  house,  the  head  of  the  New  York  branch,  he 
was  at  the  time  almost  equally  a  resident  of  New  York 
and  Paris.  After  his  retirement  from  the  banking  business 


320  MY  GENERATION 

in  1881,  Paris  became  his  permanent  residence.  His  inter- 
est in  the  College  was  not  developed  by  contact  with  its 
activities  or  by  reminders  of  its  needs. 

The  first  intimation  I  had  of  Mr.  Tuck's  intentions 
came  in  a  personal  letter  under  date  of  October  21,  1898, 
in  which  he  wrote  that  he  had  just  seen  in  a  New  York 
paper  that  the  Trustees  were  urging  me  to  take  "a  leave 
of  absence  for  rest  and  recuperation,"  and  in  which  he 
urged  me  personally  to  put  the  leave  of  absence  into  a 
European  trip,  including  a  visit  of  Mrs.  Tucker  and  myself 
in  Paris.  The  letter  enclosed  a  generous  check  to  aid  in 
carrying  this  plan  into  effect.  It  also  conveyed  the  assur- 
ance of  his  very  great  interest  in  the  recent  work  for  the 
College,  and  intimated  his  own  wish  "to  do  something  for 
Old  Dartmouth."  The  letter  of  my  old  college  friend  was 
a  happy  reminder  of  our  college  days,  especially  as  he 
wrote  "of  the  winter  term  of  1860-61  when  we  roomed 
together"  in  the  house  now  occupied  by  Professor  George 
D.  Lord;  and  the  kind  and  urgent  invitation  fitted  into  the 
plan  we  had  formed  for  a  trip  through  the  Near  East. 
Upon  our  return  from  this  trip  we  spent  a  week  in  Paris 
as  the  guests  of  the  Tucks.  I  found  the  well-matured  in- 
tention in  Mr.  Tuck's  mind  to  establish  an  endowment 
fund  in  the  College  for  the  exclusive  use  of  instruction. 
The  fund  was  to  bear  the  name  of  his  father,  the  Honor- 
able Amos  Tuck,  who  graduated  from  the  College  in  the 
class  of  1835,  and  was  a  Trustee  from  1857  to  1866.  The 
securities  for  the  fund  were  already  set  aside,  to  be  turned 
over  to  the  College  by  his  New  York  agent  upon  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  acceptance  of  the  fund  by  the 
Trustees.  (The  securities  were  put  by  Mr.  Tuck  at  a 
minimum  value  of  $300,000,  but  as  he  foresaw,  their  cu- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  321 

mulative  value  soon  rose  to  $500,000,  at  which  amount 
they  stand  on  the  Treasurer's  books.)  There  was  no  sug- 
gestion or  implication  of  further  gifts,  but  within  a  year 
the  establishment  of  the  Amos  Tuck  School  of  Admin- 
istration and  Finance,  of  which  I  shall  have  more  to  say  in 
its  place,  brought  additional  funds  for  building  and  library. 
And  it  is  proper  to  state  here  that  at  the  beginning  of  the 
administration  of  President  Nichols,  the  original  amount 
of  the  endowment  fund  ($500,000)  was  duplicated,  fol- 
lowed by  successive  gifts  of  various  intent,  and  that  dur- 
ing the  opening  years  of  the  administration  of  President 
Hopkins,  though  these  have  been  coincident  with  the  dis- 
turbed and  disturbing  conditions  of  the  War,  Mr.  Tuck 
has  not  lost  sight  of  the  College  in  the  midst  of  his  patriotic 
devotion  to  the  common  cause  of  France  and  America  in 
the  War.1 

The  financial  cooperation  of  the  alumni  as  a  collective 
body  passed  through  three  stages.  Strictly  speaking  it 
anticipated  the  organized  reconstruction  of  the  College. 
It  formed  a  part  of  the  movement  of  the  alumni  for  repre- 
sentation; the  promise  of  it  was  in  fact  made  an  argument 
for  granting  their  request.  It  had  to  do  in  this  initial  stage 
with  the  advancement  of  athletics  as  a  part  of  a  larger  plan 
for  the  physical  development  of  the  College.  The  imme- 
diate result  did  not  reach  beyond  the  preparation  of  the 
athletic  field  known  as  the  Alumni  Oval,  but  the  ultimate 
result  was  the  construction  of  the  new  gymnasium.  The 
second  stage  was  the  response  to  the  appeal  for  the  re- 
placement of  Dartmouth  Hall  when  destroyed  by  fire, 
made  by  a  committee  of  which  Melvin  O.  Adams  of  the 

1  At  the  Commencement  dinner  of  1919,  President  Hopkins,  in  announcing 
recent  gifts  of  Mr.  Tuck,  said  that  the  total  of  his  gifts  to  the  College  in  the 
past  twenty  years  amounted  to  over  a  million  and  a  half  dollars. 


322  MY  GENERATION 

class  of  1871  was  chairman,  a  response  which  carried  with 
it  to  a  successful  issue  the  hesitating  movement  for  the 
building  of  Webster  Hall.  Although  the  corner  stone  of 
Webster  Hall  was  laid  at  the  Webster  Centennial,  1901, 
the  building  was  not  completed  till  after  the  rebuilding  of 
Dartmouth  Hall  in  1905.  The  third  stage  has  been  that  of 
organized  effort  for  continuous  and  permanent  results.  This 
effort  has  already  resulted  in  the  financial  cooperation 
of  classes,  and  in  the  beginnings  of  a  general  fund  to  be 
made  up  by  annual  contribution  of  the  alumni  at  large, 
a  part  of  each  annual  contribution  to  go  on  deposit,  and  a 
part  to  be  put  at  the  disposal  of  the  Trustees  for  current 
uses.  The  fund  was  devised  by  Mr.  H.  H.  Hilton,  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees,  in  1907,  after  the  general  scheme  of  the 
Yale  Alumni  Fund,  and  does  me  the  honor  of  bearing  my 
name.  The  more  complete  organization  of  the  alumni  has 
added  greatly  to  their  usefulness  to  the  College.  The 
Association  of  Class  Secretaries,  founded  by  Secretary 
Hopkins  in  1905,  has  become  a  very  influential  body;  and 
still  more  perhaps  the  Alumni  Council,  due  to  the  same 
organizing  source,  now  recognized  as  a  most  valuable 
although  unchartered  auxiliary  to  the  Board  of  Trustees. 
The  period  of  reconstruction,  as  defined  by  the  Trustees, 
financially  covered  twelve  of  the  sixteen  years  of  my  ad- 
ministration —  1893-1905.  During  this  period  the  draft 
upon  the  fund  which  had  been  set  apart  to  meet  the 
succession  of  annual  deficits  amounted  to  $169,476.89. 
For  the  remaining  four  years  there  was  an  annual  surplus 
appropriated  in  part  to  the  recovery  of  minor  funds,  and 
in  part  to  current  improvements,  as  in  the  remodeling  of 
the  interior  of  Culver  Hall,  and  in  the  first  enlargement  of 
Rollins  Chapel.  Meanwhile  the  earning  power  of  the  Col- 


WEBSTER  HA.LL 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  323 

lege,  estimated  in  the  return  from  tuition,  had  increased 
from  less  than  $20,000  net  in  1892  to  over  $120,000  net  in 
the  years  1905-09. 

I  said  at  the  outset  of  this  section  that  it  was  one  object 
of  the  general  policy  of  reconstruction  and  expansion  to 
test  the  normal  capacity  of  the  College.  At  the  close  of 
my  administration  it  was  found  that  the  normal  capacity 
of  the  College,  measured  by  the  increase  of  faculty  and 
students,  by  the  enlargement  of  its  facilities  for  instruc- 
tion, and  by  the  extension  of  its  endowments,  had  in- 
creased threefold.1  That  this  was  no  abnormal  increase 
was  proven  by  the  fact  that  under  the  more  intensive 
administration  of  my  successor,  President  Nichols,  the  nor- 
mal capacity,  measured  by  the  same  standards,  showed  a 
fourfold  increase.  With  this  fourfold  increase  of  capacity 
the  College,  under  the  strong  and  timely  leadership  of 
President  Hopkins,  was  able  to  put  itself  at  the  service 
of  the  Nation. 

IV 

The  New  Morale 

The  external  changes  brought  about  by  the  modernizing 
process  were  soon  apparent,  but  their  effect  upon  the  in- 
ternal life  of  the  College  could  not  be  quickly  seen  or 
easily  estimated.  The  effect,  for  example,  upon  scholar- 
ship was  for  some  time  in  doubt.  On  the  whole  the  imme- 
diate effect  was  not  favorable.  The  inherited  scholarship 
of  the  classroom  was  the  resultant  of  well-formulated  sub- 

1  For  a  general  statement  regarding  the  endowments  and  resources  of  Dart- 
mouth, see  series  of  articles  in  Dartmouth  Bi-Monthly  for  1907-08  discussing 
the  resources  and  expenditures  of  the  College,  collected  into  a  pamphlet.  For  a 
later  exhibit  of  the  properties  of  the  College  see  Manual  of  Charter  and  Docu- 
ments, by  Judge  William  M.  Chase,  Clerk  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  1911. 


324  MY  GENERATION 

jects,  of  a  logical  routine,  and  of  a  compulsory  discipline. 
All  these  conditions  were  changed  to  the  degree  in  which 
the  new  regime  took  effect.  There  was  a  manifest  imma- 
turity about  the  new  subject-matter  as  seen  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  classroom.  Students  entering  college 
by  way  of  the  new  subjects  were  relatively  ill-prepared. 
Instructors  in  the  sciences  very  much  preferred  for  their 
classes  those  who  had  entered  for  the  A.B.  degree.  The 
new  courses  appeared  fragmentary  when  compared  with 
the  routine  long  at  work  in  the  classics  and  mathematics. 
And  the  elective  system  called  for  a  sudden  shift  of  will 
power  from  the  college  authorities  to  the  individual  stu- 
dent. There  was,  of  course,  much  stimulus  to  scholarship 
latent  in  the  new  subject-matter  and  in  the  principle  of 
the  elective  system,  but  the  interruption  of  the  college 
discipline  was  felt  earlier  than  the  stimulation  of  the 
new  freedom. 

If  any  one  had  assumed  that  the  modernizing  process 
was  to  be  altogether  an  intellectual  process,  he  would  soon 
have  been  convinced  that  it  required  for  its  success  strong 
moral  supports  from  without,  and  the  utilization  of  the 
moral  forces  within  the  student  body.  The  uncertain  but 
really  decisive  factor  in  the  whole  matter  was  the  student 
himself,  involving  his  moral  quite  as  much  as  his  intellec- 
tual attitude.  What  would  his  response  be,  or,  if  one  may 
still  be  justified  in  recalling  the  overworked  and  outworn 
term  of  the  new  psychology,  what  would  be  the  nature 
of  his  "reaction"  under  the  process?  The  dominant  char- 
acteristic of  the  New  England,  certainly  of  the  Dart- 
mouth student  of  a  generation  ago  was  his  independence. 
Sometimes  this  independence  showed  itself  in  a  certain 
aloofness  from  more  serious  college  affairs,  and  on  occa- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  325 

sions  in  positive  antagonisms.  But  it  was  the  most  valuable 
quality  which  he  possessed,  estimated  even  by  its  educa- 
tional use,  and  was  to  be  preserved  at  the  cost,  if  neces- 
sary, of  the  liabilities  to  which  I  have  referred.  But  why 
should  these  liabilities  be  accepted  as  necessary?  Why 
should  not  this  prime  quality  of  independence  be  trans- 
formed into  a  larger  self-respect,  and  informed  with  the 
spirit  of  responsibility?  From  the  first  I  believed  in  the 
incorporation  of  the  students,  individually  and  collec- 
tively, into  the  movement  for  reconstruction  and  expan- 
sion. I  believed  that  it  was  entirely  possible,  as  it  was 
certainly  in  every  way  desirable,  that  they  should  be  made 
to  share  in  the  "corporate  consciousness  of  the  College." 
To  the  degree  in  which  they  understood  and  felt  this 
larger  consciousness,  they  would  be  qualified  to  take  a 
leading  part  in  remoulding  college  sentiment  as  a  means 
of  reaching  and  applying  higher  standards.  With  this  end 
in  view,  I  sought  to  interpret  the  history  and  traditions  of 
the  College  in  their  relation  to  present  plans.The  graduates 
up  to  1898  will  recall  a  weekly  exercise  known  as  "Rhetor- 
icals"  held  in  the  Old  Chapel,  attended  by  the  whole 
College  —  a  somewhat  unruly  exercise  open  to  various 
liabilities,  but  affording  a  rare  opportunity  of  indoctrin- 
ating undergraduates  into  the  permanent  duties  and  re- 
sponsibilities of  the  college  fellowship.  WTien  this  exercise 
was  abolished  through  excess  of  numbers,  "Dartmouth 
Night"  was  instituted,  to  bring  the  undergraduate  body 
into  sympathetic  and  intelligent  contact  with  the  alumni, 
the  living  and  the  dead.  The  portraits  of  the  more  illus- 
trious of  the  early  graduates,  hung  for  the  occasion  on  the 
walls  of  the  Old  Chapel,  and  later  permanently  vivifying 
the  walls  of  WTebster,  gave  a  reality  to  the  men  and  events 


326  MY  GENERATION 

of  the  past,  comparable  to  the  effect  of  the  presence  and 
the  voice  of  the  living  graduate  of  like  distinction.  Through 
the  suggestion  of  President  Nichols  in  the  observance  of 
the  custom  in  his  administration,  "Dartmouth  Night"  was 
made  the  occasion  for  gatherings  of  all  the  graduates  in  all 
the  Associations  throughout  the  country  and  abroad.  The 
"Night "  was  marked  by  the  exchange  of  greetings  between 
these  widespread  and  remote  gatherings  and  the  gather- 
ing at  the  College. 

The  response  of  the  students  was  prompt  and  hearty 
in  all  ways  of  external  aid,  especially  in  the  effort  to  na- 
tionalize the  constituency  of  the  College.  It  was  the  stu- 
dents who  carried  the  College  into  the  Western  cities  and 
over  the  Mississippi.  This  cooperation  required,  however, 
only  an  intelligent  enthusiasm.  A  much  deeper  test  was 
to  come  in  the  education  and  control  of  college  sentiment. 
Here  there  was  need  of  reform,  especially  in  the  matter 
of  the  survival  of  certain  college  customs  which  had  be- 
come demoralizing  and  obstructive.  The  test  at  this  point 
soon  came,  as  was  to  have  been  expected,  in  the  natural 
course  of  college  life.  The  result  was  so  significant  as  to 
warrant  a  somewhat  detailed  reference.  There  was  an  old 
custom,  reaching  in  fact  back  of  the  memory  of  most  living 
graduates,  known  as  the  "horning"  of  instructors,  who 
had  for  any  reason  wakened  the  wrath  of  the  student.  It 
was  the  accredited  method  of  disciplining  the  Faculty.  I 
do  not  know  whether  it  obtained  in  other  colleges  or  was 
altogether  a  local  habit.  But  whether  supported  or  not  by 
general  college  usage,  the  time  had  come  for  its  abolition 
at  Dartmouth.  When  the  custom  first  came  under  my 
official  notice,  I  did  not  treat  it  in  the  way  of  discipline,  but 
as  a  fit  subject  for  the  exercise  of  college  sentiment.  I  fully 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  327 

explained  its  relation  to  the  general  college  life,  showing 
how  vitally  it  concerned  the  spirit  of  the  whole  college 
fellowship,  and  making  clear  its  absolute  inconsistency 
with  the  social  progress  of  the  College.  I  had  no  way  of 
measuring  the  impression  produced  by  this  view  of  the 
matter,  except  by  the  length  of  time  which  elapsed  before 
the  recurrence  of  a  "horning."  It  so  happened  that  at  the 
time  of  its  recurrence,  I  was  absent  from  the  College  on 
a  trip  among  the  alumni.  I  had  just  left  Washington  for 
Chicago,  when  I  received  word  of  the  outbreak  of  the  cus- 
tom in  somewhat  aggravated  form.  I  canceled  further 
engagements,  and,  returning  instantly  and  unexpectedly 
to  Hanover,  began  at  once  a  quiet  but  thorough  course  of 
investigation.  It  had  been  a  class  affair,  and  every  man  in 
the  class  was  asked  directly  about  his  part  in  it.  No  one 
was  asked  what  any  other  man  did.  As  a  result  of  the  in- 
vestigation, the  self -convicted  leaders  in  the  affair  were 
separated  from  College  for  longer  or  shorter  periods.  The 
penalty  of  "separation"  was  chosen  to  express  the  single 
idea  that  any  student  who,  under  the  existing  conditions, 
and  in  face  of  the  appeal  which  had  been  made  to  college 
sentiment,  chose  to  uphold  in  his  own  person  the  insulting 
custom  at  issue,  did  not  really  belong  to  the  college  fellow- 
ship, so  long  as  he  upheld  the  view  which  allowed  him  to 
indulge  in  the  practice.  The  action,  though  considered 
somewhat  drastic  —  far  less  so  by  the  students  than  by 
many  of  the  alumni  —  was  not  considered  by  the  students 
unjust  or  uncalled  for.  There  was,  however,  a  certain  feel- 
ing among  them  that  the  penalty  was  unequal  in  its 
application,  a  feeling  justified  by  their  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  relative  part  taken  by  different  actors. 
In  view  of  this  knowledge,  they  asked  of  the  Faculty, 


328  MY  GENERATION 

through  a  committee,  that  the  investigation  be  reopened 
in  the  hope  of  a  reduction  of  some  of  the  penalties.  To  this 
request  the  reply  was  made  that  further  consideration 
would  be  given,  provided  meanwhile  the  College  would 
consider,  and  discuss,  and  declare  itself  in  reference  to 
the  continuance  of  the  custom,  accompanying  this  action 
by  careful  study  of  methods  of  satisfying  grievances  and 
complaints.  This  proposition  was  accepted  in  serious  spirit, 
and  for  over  a  week  the  subject  was  fully  discussed  in  fra- 
ternities, classes,  and  finally  in  a  series  of  mass  meetings 
of  the  College.  As  a  result,  resolutions  were  unanimously 
adopted  committing  the  College  to  the  abandonment  of 
the  custom,  and  providing  a  proper  substitute  for  it.  When 
this  position  had  been  fairly  taken,  the  request  for  a  change 
of  penalty  was  met,  not  by  the  reduction  of  it,  but  by  the 
removal  of  it;  and  each  student  who  had  been  separated 
was  permitted  to  resume  his  place  in  his  class,  upon  con- 
forming to  the  now  organized  college  sentiment.  College 
sentiment  had  come  in  to  take  the  place  of  college  author- 
ity. For  the  college  authority  to  have  perpetuated  itself 
under  the  conditions  would  have  been  irritating  and  un- 
generous. The  end  of  discipline  was  not  the  separation  of 
offending  students,  but  the  casting-out  of  an  offensive 
custom,  and  the  exorcising  of  the  spirit  which  informed  it. 
The  action  of  the  student  body  at  this  time  constituted 
one  of  the  most  honorable  and  decisive  episodes  in  the 
history  of  the  College.  Its  effect  was  permanent  and  cumu- 
lative. I  remember  saying  to  Dean  Emerson  some  years 
afterwards,  when  some  incident  brought  back  the  episode, 
that  if  there  was  any  justification  of  the  term,  the  ''New 
Dartmouth,"  it  came  from  this  advance  in  the  tone  of 
college  sentiment,  rather  than  from  any  progress  in  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  329 

external  development  of  the  College.  One  outcome  of  this 
action  was  the  organization  of  a  society,  the  aim  of  which 
as  announced  was  "to  bring  into  close  touch  and  harmony 
the  various  branches  of  college  activities,  to  preserve  the 
customs  and  traditions  of  Dartmouth,  to  promote  her 
welfare  and  to  protect  her  name."  The  society  took  the 
name  of  Palseopitus  —  the  rendering  in  Greek  of  the  Old 
Pine,  around  which  gathered  the  earliest  traditions  of  the 
College.  At  first  the  society  was  secret  and  self -perpet- 
uating, then  the  secrecy  was  thrown  off,  and  later  it  was 
given  over  to  the  upper  classes  for  the  determination  of 
its  membership.  Though  entirely  unofficial  in  its  action,  it 
merits  the  statement  of  the  "Alumni  Magazine"  that  on 
the  whole  it  represents  "the  conscience  of  the  College  at 
work." 

In  dealing  with  an  academic  democracy,  whether  per- 
sonally or  officially,  one  has  constantly  to  keep  in  mind 
the  fact  that  the  democratic  spirit  is  less  hostile  to  the 
idea  of  discipline  than  to  the  idea  of  conformity.  De- 
mocracy does  not  easily  adjust  itself  anywhere  to  the 
social  conventions,  doubtless  because  of  their  inherited 
association  with  rank  or  caste.  And  yet  democracy  is  not 
Bohemianism.  It  is  in  no  sense  the  cult  of  the  uncon- 
ventional. It  lacks  altogether  the  charm  of  the  unconven- 
tional, when  the  unconventional  takes  on  an  unaffected 
alliance  with  nature  or  with  art.  Democracy,  however,  has 
its  own  conventions,  among  which  is  the  obsession  in  some 
minds  that  if  it  is  to  retain  its  character  it  must  abide 
within  strictly  primitive  conditions. 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  modernizing  process,  as  ap- 
plied to  the  physical  reconstruction  of  the  colleges  would 
bring  them  into  more  direct  contact  with  the  ordinary 


330  MY  GENERATION 

social  conventions.  The  same  forces  which  were  at  work 
creating  new  conveniences,  comforts,  and  even  luxuries 
compared  with  former  necessities,  in  private  and  public 
places  and  among  all  classes  of  people,  were  at  work  in 
the  colleges.  The  modern  dormitory  was  simply  the  mod- 
ern home  adapted  to  academic  uses  —  furnished  ade- 
quately with  water,  heat,  and  light,  and  kept  in  sanitary 
condition  by  proper  service.  The  chief  innovation  in  both 
cases  was  the  invasion  of  the  old  order  by  the  bath.  The 
daily  bath,  or  at  least  the  opportunity  for  it,  caused  a 
general  leveling-up  of  society.  It  removed  some  arbitrary 
but  very  separating  distinctions.  The  bath  in  time  created 
its  own  routine  to  which  it  exacted  a  certain  loyalty.  Pro- 
fessor Arthur  Sherburne  Hardy  used  to  quote  an  old 
countryman  in  these  parts,  whose  late  experience  of  the 
bath  had  resulted  in  more  loyalty  to  the  idea  than  familiar- 
ity with  the  practice,  as  saying,  "I  will  have  my  bath  once 
a  year  whether  I  need  it  or  not."  The  bath  came  to  mean 
much  more  than  cleanliness,  not  so  much  more  as  to  the 
Romans,  but  still  much  and  in  various  ways.  A  college  was 
not  the  same  before  and  after  the  institution  of  the  "Order 
of  the  Bath."  I  am  free  to  confess,  however,  that  there 
were  at  Dartmouth  occasional  lapses  from  the  new  order, 
and  not  a  few  inconsistencies  and  antagonisms.  I  recall, 
for  example,  the  invasion  of  the  sweater  at  the  time  of  its 
most  flagrant  ugliness  —  an  ugliness  so  flagrant  that  I 
was  obliged  to  make  a  ruling  to  protect  the  decency  of  the 
chapel  service,  that  it  be  excluded  or  covered. 

To  some  minds  the  modern  dormitory  was  the  unmis- 
takable sign  of  the  incoming  of  luxury.  So  it  appeared  to 
some  of  our  older  graduates,  jealous  for  the  old-time 
guarantees  of  the  democracy  of  the  College.  I  recall  two 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  331 

of  these  especially,  both  men  of  ample  means  and  one 
certainly  of  the  amplest  culture  —  Dr.  John  Ordronaux. 
Dr.  Ordronaux  was  a  most  delightful  visitor  at  Hanover, 
when  he  came  annually  on  his  tour  among  the  medical 
schools  as  Lecturer  on  Medical  Jurisprudence.  I  think  that 
each  new  dormitory  with  its  sanitary  equipment  was  an 
offense  to  him,  and  evoked  the  most  strenuous  denuncia- 
tion that  his  unequaled  command  of  Latin  derivatives 
could  supply.  I  never  failed  to  avail  myself  of  the  intel- 
lectual treat  which  followed  when  once  he  caught  sight 
of  the  modern  Sybarites  who  dwelt  in  the  modern  dormi- 
tory. Very  generously,  but  not  quite  consistently,  Dr. 
Ordronaux  left  a  "Good  Samitarian  fund"  to  the  value  of 
$30,000  for  the  benefit  of  professors  longest  in  service,  who 
had  experienced  the  early  privations  of  college  life.  The 
other  graduate  to  whom  I  have  referred,  after  visiting 
Hanover  by  invitation  of  one  of  the  Trustees  with  a  view 
to  a  bequest,  flatly  refused  the  suggestion  of  his  friend. 
The  bequest,  which  was  made  known  soon  after,  was  most 
worthily,  but  as  it  evidently  seemed  to  him  much  more 
fitly,  bestowed  upon  a  woman's  college,  which  at  the  time 
was  passing  through  an  almost  identical  modernizing 
process  in  its  building  programme  with  that  at  Dartmouth. 
In  course  of  time  it  came  to  be  seen  by  all  that,  beyond 
insuring  safety  and  sanitation,  the  dormitory  system  had 
a  direct  effect  upon  the  morale  of  student  life.  It  equalized 
social  conditions.  As  administered  at  Dartmouth,  every 
dormitory  provided  rooms  for  poorer  students  with  access 
to  the  same  general  conveniences.1  There  were  no  dormi- 

1  The  last  two  dormitories  built  during  my  administration,  Massachusetts 
(1907),  and  New  Hampshire  (1908),  represented  the  possibilities  of  the  modern 
dormitory  for  equalizing  conditions,  allowing  all  occupants  to  share  alike  in  the 
conveniences  common  to  the  higher  grade  of  dormitories.  Each  dormitory  cost 


332  MY  GENERATION 

tories  set  apart  for  students  on  scholarships.  Dormitory 
life  became  a  training  in  academic  democracy,  in  the  pro- 
cess which  I  have  described  as  leveling-up.  College  Hall  — 
a  college  club  including  commons  —  was  built  as  a  com- 
plement to  the  dormitory  system,  to  carry  out  the  same 
democratic  principle  and  to  insure  its  acceptance.  The 
fraternity  idea  was  not  discouraged,  but  by  the  ruling  of 
the  Trustees  no  fraternity  house  was  allowed  to  accommo- 
date more  than  fourteen  members  —  about  one  third  of 
the  usual  membership;  and,  though  there  was  no  rule 
against  separate  tables  at  the  fraternities,  the  spirit  in- 
volved in  the  ruling  on  rooms  has  been  carried  over  by 
the  fraternities  for  the  protection  of  the  common  college 
democracy. 

The  adjustment  of  college  life  to  intercollegiate  ath- 
letics, having  in  view  the  effect  upon  the  college  morale, 
was  a  difficult  and  at  some  points  a  most  vexatious  prob- 
lem. "Nevertheless,"  as  Mr.  Beecher  used  to  say  when 
confronted  by  the  results  not  altogether  to  his  liking  from 
policies  which  he  advocated,  I  accepted  athletics  as  a 
legitimate  factor  in  our  educational  life.  To  my  mind,  the 
Greek  settled  that  question  decisively  and  passed  on  the 
principle  to  us  through  our  English  antecedents.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  see  the  moral  equivalent  of  organized 
athletics.  The  alternative  is  recreation;  but  recreation  is 
no  substitute  for  athletics,  because  athletics  is  in  no  sense 
a  recreation.  Athletics  is  a  game,  a  contest,  and  means  all 
that  is  implied  in  these  terms  —  adequate  training,  stim- 

about  $80,000,  and  each  accommodated  about  100  students  —  Massachusetts 
88,  New  Hampshire  107.  The  average  rental  per  man  in  each  of  these  dormitories 
was  $100,  but  the  rental  was  so  distributed  in  gradations  of  $5,  from  $05  to 
$135,  that  one  hundred  and  eighteen  occupants  of  the  two  dormitories  paid  less 
than  $100  each,  six  paid  $100  each,  and  seventy-one  paid  over  $100  each. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  333 

ulating  antagonism,  and  a  considerable  degree  of  publicity. 
But  these  in  turn  imply  a  coaching  system  —  presumably 
a  professional  though  academic  coach,  college  rivalries, 
and  the  exploitation  of  the  press.  These  are  all  serious 
liabilities.  They  cannot  be  ignored,  or  overlooked,  or  min- 
imized. "Nevertheless,"  to  return  to  my  quotation,  I  held 
fast  to  my  educational  belief  in  athletics  during  a  some- 
what stormy  period  of  discussion,  substantially  for  the 
moral  possibilities  rather  than  the  physical  results  to  be 
gained.  I  have  always  been  doubtful  of  the  value  of  the 
physical  results,  especially  to  the  most  highly  trained 
athletes. 

My  reasons  in  support  of  athletics,  stated  more  definitely, 
were,  first,  I  regarded  athletics  as  a  legitimate  school  for 
training  in  leadership.  "Leadership,"  as  I  have  elsewhere 
said,  "grows  out  of  the  combination  of  personality  and 
attainment.  The  proportion  of  personality  to  attainment 
varies  greatly,  but  neither  one  is  sufficient  of  itself  to 
make  a  leader.  The  loafer  cannot  become  a  leader,  how- 
ever agreeable  he  may  be  personally.  The  athlete  cannot 
become  a  college  leader  if  he  is  not  essentially  a  gentleman, 
with  some  recognizable  intellectual  force.  When  the  scholar 
fails  to  reach  leadership,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  having 
presumably  attainment,  the  lack  is  somewhere  in  those 
personal  qualities  which  make  up  effective  personality  — 
authority,  virility,  sincerity,  sympathy,  manners." 

Without  doubt  the  personality  of  many  athletes  enters 
to  a  considerable  degree  into  their  influence  over  their 
fellows,  but  their  chief  claim  to  leadership  lies  in  the  field 
of  attainment.  This  fact  must  not  be  overlooked  in  estimat- 
ing the  value  of  academic  athletics.  If  the  athlete  seems 
to  compete  with  the  scholar,  it  is  because  he  represents 


334  MY  GENERATION 

much  of  the  discipline  which  scholarship  requires.  He  is 
of  no  account  till  he  reaches  a  given  standard  of  excellence. 
Further,  it  must  be  remembered  to  the  credit  of  athletes 
that  it  has  introduced  the  idea  of  excellence  into  what  is 
known  as  college  life.  It  has  literally  projected  this  idea 
into  an  otherwise  loose,  flabby,  unmotived  life  of  the 
undergraduate.  It  compels  a  different  standard  in  all  col- 
lege activities,  even  those  of  a  more  intellectual  cast  — 
dramatic,  journalistic,  artistic.  The  amateur  undergrad- 
uate has  been  obliged  to  conform  to  a  different  standard 
of  college  opinion,  if  he  wishes  recognition  outside  the  re- 
wards of  scholarship. 

A  second  reason  for  my  respect  for  athletics  was  the 
beneficial  character  of  its  democracy,  —  no  more  marked, 
of  course,  than  that  of  the  classroom,  but  on  an  equality 
with  it.  The  one  and  only  inexorable  test  in  either  case  is 
attainment,  excellence.  It  puts  the  man  relying  solely  on 
personal  effort  on  the  level  with  the  man  who  has  some 
inherited  advantage.  It  gives  a  man  who  is  not  of  the 
highest  scholarly  aptitude  the  self-respect  and  courage  of 
being  able  to  do  something  well,  something  of  recogniz- 
able value.  I  think  that  the  loss  of  this  privilege  would  on 
the  whole  lower  the  tone  of  college  life. 

And  a  third  reason,  a  reason  which  at  least  held  my 
serious  attention  to  athletics,  was  the  constant  succession 
of  moral  issues  involved  in  the  management  of  intercol- 
legiate athletics.  Athletics  occupied  the  territory  nearest 
the  frontier  line  between  the  colleges  and  the  outer  world. 
It  was  as  easy  to  cross  this  line  from  without  as  from 
within.  The  task  of  an  athletic  committee  was  unique 
among  college  committees,  requiring  always  intense 
watchfulness  and  at  times  stubborn  resistance.  The  in- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  335 

vasion  of  commercialism  was  dangerous  because  of  its 
sophistries.  It  had  its  propaganda  well  prepared  to  meet 
college  conditions.  Perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  was  the 
argument  for  the  employment  of  college  baseball  teams 
at  summer  resorts,  namely  that  it  was  proper  to  capitalize 
one's  college  athletic  reputation;  not  to  do  this  was  a 
manifest  waste  and  needless  deprivation  for  poorer  stu- 
dents to  endure.  Here  lay  the  special  peril  of  college  ath- 
letics, through  the  relation  of  one  branch  to  a  public  game 
which  had  a  well-defined  market  value.  To  such  an  extent 
had  this  peril  become  a  reality  in  the  academic  world  that 
I  felt  constrained  to  devote  a  paragraph  to  the  subject  in 
one  of  my  opening  addresses  on  the  assembling  of  the 
College.  "Apparently,"  I  then  said,  "the  temptations  to 
evasion  or  deception,  or  to  open  surrender  to  commercial- 
ism in  connection  with  baseball  are  too  strong  to  be  re- 
sisted. The  academic  player  has  not  been  able  to  maintain 
his  separateness,  his  distinctness  from  the  professional 
player.  More  demoralization,  in  my  judgment,  has  come 
into  college  life  from  the  commercial  seductions  of  base- 
ball than  from  all  the  liabilities  of  any  sort  inherent  in  or 
associated  with  football,  the  one  really  great  and  dis- 
tinctive academic  game.  If  this  demoralization  continues, 
I  am  prepared,  as  a  lover  and  defender  of  college  athletics, 
to  advise  the  elimination  of  baseball  as  an  intercollegiate 
game  from  college  sports.  I  would  confine  academic  sports 
to  those  games  which  have  no  such  well-defined  market 
value,  unless  we  can  make  the  price  we  pay,  and  which 
we  do  pay  most  liberally,  a  sufficient  reward  —  namely 
college  honor." 

It  gave  me  much  gratification  to  be  able  to  say  the 
following  year,  as  a  result  of  the  action  of  the  Athletic 


336  MY  GENERATION 

Committee,  entirely  on  its  own  motion,  by  which  the 
college  baseball  team  that  had  played  under  an  engage- 
ment during  the  summer  season,  had  been  debarred  from 
a  place  in  intercollegiate  contests,  with  the  acquiescence 
not  only  of  the  College  but  of  the  team  itself,  "I  wish  to 
congratulate  the  College  upon  the  way  in  which  during 
the  past  year  it  has,  in  a  collective  sense,  played  the  gentle- 
man. In  your  action  in  regard  to  summer  baseball  you 
took  what  you  regarded  as  the  position  of  honor  at  the 
risk  of  defeat.  The  fact  that  your  action  brought  you  suc- 
cess does  not  detract  from  the  honor  due  you;  and  in  this 
honor  none  are  more  deserving  of  recognition  than  those 
who  generously  acted  with  you  to  their  own  disadvantage. 
This  college  has  not  seen  a  finer  example  of  undergraduate 
loyalty  than  was  shown  by  the  men  who  gave  their  effec- 
tive support  to  the  team  from  which  they  had  been  de- 
barred." The  incident  here  referred  to  serves  to  illustrate 
a  certain  moral  discipline  which  may  inhere  in  the  manage- 
ment of  intercollegiate  athletics.  It  is  not  to  be  overlooked 
in  any  just  estimate  of  the  athletic  situation  at  a  period 
when  it  was,  with  reason,  most  suspected  of  commercial- 
ism. As  the  situation  developed  it  cleared  itself  more  and 
more  of  questionable  practices.  When  alumni,  five  years 
apart  in  graduation,  discussed  the  athletic  situation,  the 
moral  argument  was  almost  invariably  with  the  younger 
alumni.  Looking  back  upon  this  general  period,  I  think 
that  the  undergraduates  who  passed  under  the  strain  and 
discipline  of  intercollegiate  athletics,  came  out  with  a 
better  preparation  for  meeting  the  conditions  of  the  outer 
world  than  those  who,  for  fear  of  intercollegiate  liabilities, 
were  restricted  to  intramural  athletics. 

I  have  said  that  the  elective  system  was  the  new  and 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  337 

important  factor  introduced  by  the  modernizing  process 
into  the  general  college  discipline,  the  result  of  which 
might  be  expected  to  appear  in  the  effect  upon  the  college 
morale.  I  have  also  said  that  the  immediate  effect  was  not 
favorable  to  scholarship,  but  rather  disturbing,  partly 
because  of  the  immaturity  of  the  subjects  which  came  in 
with  it,  and  partly  because  of  the  unpreparedness  of  most 
students  for  the  larger  freedom  which  it  prescribed.  It 
presented  itself  to  them  with  the  apparent  inconsistency 
of  a  compulsory  freedom.  In  due  time,  however,  a  radical 
change  took  place  both  in  the  apprehension  of  the  new 
subject-matter  and  in  the  use  of  the  new  freedom.  As  the 
new  subjects  came  under  academic  appraisal,  they  were 
seen  to  have  a  distinctive  value  or  values  which  added  to 
the  sum  total  of  the  college  discipline.  If  the  college  dis- 
cipline was  to  be  understood  as  set  to  the  task  of  develop- 
ing the  art  of  thinking,  here  were  subjects  which  called  for 
perhaps  the  finest  exercise  of  the  art  —  the  art  of  inter- 
pretation: history,  for  the  interpretation  of  events,  soci- 
ology for  the  interpretation  of  human  society,  and  eco- 
nomics for  the  interpretation  of  those  values  which  are  the 
product  of  human  invention  and  labor.  History  naturally 
led  the  way  in  training  for  this  art.  This  was  its  high  func- 
tion, not  the  commitment  of  information,  however  well 
ordered  or  however  necessary  for  general  uses,  to  the  guard- 
ianship of  the  memory.  Biology  took  its  place  beside  the 
older  sciences  as  a  most  efficient  ally  in  enforcing  the 
necessity  of  acquiring  the  habit  of  responsible  thinking; 
but  it  also  required  in  large  measure  the  interpretative 
faculty.  The  problems  of  physical  life  reach  beyond  the 
experiments  of  the  laboratory,  just  as  the  problems  of 
human  society  and  of  human  activities  reach  back  into 


338  MY  GENERATION 

the  investigations  of  social  research.  I  followed  while  in 
the  College,  and  have  followed  since  with  great  interest, 
the  monographs  put  out  from  time  to  time  by  Professor 
William  Patten,  in  which  he  has  carried  over  the  results 
of  his  experimentation  into  the  inviting  field  of  interpre- 
tation. On  the  whole  the  effect  of  the  new  subject-matter 
upon  the  mind  of  the  College  was  invigorating  and  whole- 
some. It  tended  to  produce  more  intensive  and  responsible 
thinking.  The  effect  was  wider  and  deeper  than  could  be 
measured  by  the  ordinary  tests  of  scholarship.  It  was 
difficult  to  rate  it  in  the  terms  of  the  marking  system. 
The  solution  of  a  problem  in  mathematics  is  right  or  wrong, 
and  can  be  so  recorded  with  due  allowance  for  mistakes 
which  do  not  really  inhere  in  the  process;  and  so  in  almost 
equal  degree  is  the  answer  to  a  critical  question  in  the 
classics.  It  is  more  difficult  to  weigh  the  evidence  of  the 
grasp  of  a  subject,  or  of  its  practical  or  philosophical  ap- 
plication, in  the  thought  of  a  student.  What  is  often  ap- 
parent, however,  is  a  certain  cumulative  effect  of  a  subject 
upon  the  student  himself.  The  test  really  comes  within 
the  category  of  morale. 

The  elective  system  itself  needed  considerable  modifi- 
cation to  enable  it  to  realize  its  moral  intent.  As  a  system 
of  unrestricted  freedom  it  was  liable  to  misuse  and  to 
over-use.  It  might  be  used  to  evade  the  harder  subjects,  or 
in  the  interest  altogether  of  vocational  subjects.  One 
might  wander  at  will  amongst  the  elementary  courses,  or 
one  might  take  a  straight  and  narrow  path  to  some  pro- 
fessional end.  Certain  restrictions  were  necessary  to  give 
the  system  its  proper  effect:  one,  the  retention  of  some 
compulsory  elementary  courses;  another,  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  curriculum  in  groups  of  subjects  which  must 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  339 

be  recognized  in  the  choice  made;  another  still,  the  re- 
quirement that  one  must  reach  advanced  standing  of  high 
grade  in  a  certain  number  of  subjects  in  order  to  receive 
a  degree.  These  restrictions  and  requirements  coupled 
with  one's  personal  choices  out  of  the  general  curriculum, 
became  a  matter  of  no  little  study  in  itself.  To  a  scholar, 
it  was  an  invitation  to  take  the  best  the  College  afforded. 
To  the  average  student,  it  was  a  summons  to  gird  himself 
for  the  essential  business  of  a  college  man.  When  the 
system  failed  to  awaken  the  natural  interest  which  might 
have  been  expected,  it  remained  still  a  challenge  to  the 
will  to  assert  itself.  When  it  failed  to  awaken  interest  or 
arouse  the  will,  it  failed  altogether  and  had  no  advantage 
above  the  system  of  compulsory  discipline  which  it  had  dis- 
placed, if  indeed  it  reached  to  that  academic  level.  Inci- 
dentally, it  may  be  said  that  the  elective  system  did  much 
to  develop  a  natural  intimacy  between  instructors  and 
students.  Students  elected  instructors  as  well  as  subjects, 
in  some  cases  preferably  the  instructor.  But  in  either  case, 
the  instructor  had  the  right  to  assume  that,  so  far  as  the 
election  was  free  and  open,  the  men  before  him  were  his 
men  with  whom  he  might  enter  into  a  sincere  academic 
friendship. 

In  contrast  with  the  work  of  an  instructor,  the  work 
of  an  administrative  official  seemed  impersonal,  and  so  it 
was  to  me,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  on  occasions  the  presi- 
dent could  come  into  closer  and  more  intimate  relation 
with  students  than  the  faculty  or  any  member  of  it.  I  had 
anticipated  and  had  tried  to  discount  this  more  impersonal 
character  of  administrative  work;  still  I  was  so  far  un- 
satisfied with  the  practical  result  that  I  determined  to  find 
some  legitimate  way  of  free  access  to  the  "mind  of  the 


340  MY  GENERATION 

College."  I  regarded  this  phrase  of  Dr.  Jowett  of  Balliol  as 
the  most  significant  of  all  purely  academic  designations, 
whether  applied  to  the  college  in  a  collective  sense,  or  to 
emphasize  its  intellectual  distinction.  The  one  opportunity 
at  Dartmouth  within  reach  of  the  President  for  definite 
and  constant  access  to  the  mind  of  the  College  lay  in  the 
use  of  the  chapel  service,  which  by  tradition  fell  to  his  lot. 
Could  this  service  be  made  to  satisfy  the  desire  for  as 
distinct  and  well-defined  a  contact  with  the  student  mind 
as  could  be  made  through  the  classroom  and  the  curricu- 
lum? In  one  respect,  it  had  manifestly  the  advantage;  it 
gave  access  to  the  student  body  as  a  whole  and  could  be 
utilized  in  the  interest  of  college  unity.  But  how  about  the 
possibility  of  reacting  through  it  into  the  deeper  and  more 
individual  workings  of  the  college  mind,  of  meeting  its 
more  personal  necessities,  of  interpreting  men  to  them- 
selves? I  resolved  to  find  the  answer  to  this  question  in  the 
treatment  of  the  Sunday  Vesper  Service  in  Rollins  Chapel ; 
and  for  the  sufficient  test  of  the  answer,  I  allowed  no  en- 
gagement for  Sunday  to  interfere  with  this  fixed  engage- 
ment. I  resolved  also  that  except  in  cases  where  some 
consecutive  treatment  of  a  subject  was  necessary,  each 
service  should  have  the  freedom  of  subject  to  which  it 
might  seem  to  be  entitled.  It  remained  only  that  I  should 
hold  consistently  to  certain  objects  which,  though  per- 
sonal and  unannounced,  should  guide  me  in  the  conduct  of 
the  service  and  in  the  choice  of  subjects.  The  time  allotted 
in  the  service  for  direct  address  was  fifteen  minutes  —  an 
allowance  which  I  determined  should  not  be  exceeded,  re- 
garding adherence  to  it  to  be  as  much  a  matter  of  intel- 
lectual discipline  on  my  part,  as  of  honest  conformity  to 
academic  limitations.   The  honesties  which  inhere  in  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  341 

use  of  time  are  taught  and  practiced  more  faithfully  in 
the  classroom  than  in  the  pulpit. 

I  did  not  assume  in  this  determination  to  gain  access  to 
the  mind  of  the  College,  that  I  had  the  full  understanding 
of  it.  It  was  to  be  a  matter  of  continued  study;  but  I  was 
quite  sure  of  the  fact,  since  stated  with  fine  discrimination 
by  President  Lowell,  that  "college  work  may  affect  the 
fortunes  of  a  life-time  more  profoundly  than  the  studies 
of  boyhood  or  of  the  professional  school,  but  the  ordinary 
student  does  not  know  it."  This  unrealized  meaning  of  the 
college  discipline  is  a  state  of  mind  to  be  recognized  but 
not  accepted.  Full  realization  may  not  be  expected  and 
premature  realization  is  not  to  be  desired,  but  the  process 
of  self-realization  in  and  through  the  environment  of  the 
College  is  a  part,  and  a  very  important  part,  of  the  process 
of  education.  The  work  of  the  College  in  all  of  its  depart- 
ments tended,  of  course,  directly  or  indirectly  to  this  end; 
but  as  I  saw  the  situation,  there  were  definite  points  of 
which  the  classroom  could  not  take  cognizance  or  upon 
which  it  could  not  lay  sufficient  emphasis.  It  seemed  to 
me  to  be  necessary,  as  a  complement  to  the  work  of  the 
classroom,  that  there  should  be  some  direct  and  authorized 
endeavor  to  stir  up  the  mind  of  the  College  to  the  under- 
standing of  the  meaning  of  its  own  personality,  individual 
and  collective;  to  keep  its  mind  open  and  sensitive  to  that 
human  world  of  which  it  was  a  part,  though  for  a  while 
detached,  that  in  due  time  it  might  enter  more  fully  into 
its  life;  and  also  to  give  the  mind  of  the  College  some 
vision  of  that  larger  environment,  whose  boundaries  are 
discernible  and  accessible  to  faith.  In  other  words,  there 
was  need  of  some  agency  in  and  of  the  College  which 
should  pursue  in  all  fitting  variety  of  form  the  one  object, 


342  MY  GENERATION 

to  interpret  and  quicken  the  sense  of  the  personal,  the 
sense  of  the  human  as  felt  in  the  life  of  the  world,  and  the 
religious  sense.  As  the  situation  then  was  at  Dartmouth, 
this  specific  task  fell,  as  I  have  said,  to  the  lot  of  the 
President,  and  I  accepted  it  as  an  opportunity  not  to  be 
set  aside. 

In  accepting  it,  however,  in  this  light,  I  recognized  clearly 
the  fact  that  there  were  certain  characteristics  of  the  col- 
lege period  which  were  to  be  accepted  with  it,  and  were 
in  no  case,  even  when  their  liabilities  were  most  evident, 
to  be  disregarded.  In  fact  they  were,  as  I  regarded  them, 
rather  the  necessary  conditions  of  fulfilling  the  college 
function  in  the  educational  system.  The  first  of  these  con- 
ditions was  freedom  —  freedom  as  understood  elsewhere 
and  in  other  relations.  This  condition  applied  especially 
to  the  development  of  personality,  where  on  account  of 
the  transition  of  the  average  student  from  a  previous  stage 
of  restraint,  the  temptation  was  at  times  great  to  continue 
the  process  of  repression.  I  found  it  necessary  to  keep 
constantly  in  mind  the  fact  that  there  could  be  no  awak- 
ening of  the  mind  to  the  real  meaning  of  personality,  with- 
out a  quickening  of  the  sense  of  personal  power;  and 
further,  that  in  this  quickening  of  the  sense  of  personal 
power,  lay  the  chief  safeguard  of  freedom  of  thought  and 
action.  It  also  seemed  necessary  to  make  clear  to  the 
student  mind  the  distinction  between  the  development 
of  individuality  and  the  development  of  personality  — 
the  former  the  measure  of  the  difference  between  one  man 
and  another  or  between  one  and  the  many,  the  latter  the 
measure  of  the  fullness  of  one's  own  nature.  This  alone 
when  realized,  as  I  sought  to  show,  is  the  distinction  of  all 
true  greatness;  this  individualizes  the  really  great  man 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  343 

and  makes  the  essential  difference  between  him  and  other 
men. 

In  "Personal  Power,"  published  after  my  retirement, 
I  gathered  up  a  considerable  number  of  sermons  and  ad- 
dresses, in  which  the  spirit  and  aims  of  the  chapel  talks 
were  embodied.  This  volume  was  not  at  all  a  reproduction 
of  the  chapel  talks,  for  these  were  entirely  informal,  but  a 
more  formal  expression  of  the  same  purpose  and  method 
which  had  guided  me  in  the  attempt  to  develop  the  sense 
of  personality  in  the  college  man. 

f  Next  to  the  development  of  the  sense  of  the  personal,  I 
put  the  development  of  the  sense  of  the  human,  the  sensi- 
tive consciousness,  that  is,  of  one's  part  in  the  life  of  the 
world.  But  here  again  it  was  necessary  to  have  regard  to  a 
characteristic  of  the  college  period,  in  some  respects  con- 
tradictory in  its  effect,  namely,  a  certain  formal  detach- 
ment from  the  more  responsible  and  burdened  life  of  the 
world.  This  detachment  was  a  recognized  condition  of 
the  college  discipline  to  insure  the  command  of  time,  and 
necessary  to  give  the  right  perspective  through  which  to 
view  the  world.  It  implied  the  possibility  not  only  of  seeing 
things  in  their  proper  relations  and  proportions,  but  also 
the  possibility  of  looking  upon  them  with  a  mind  freed 
from  passion  and  prejudice.  But  to  offset  the  manifest 
danger  from  this  detachment,  there  was  need  of  holding 
the  mind  of  the  College  in  serious  contact  with  its  larger 
human  environment.  The  thought  of  the  average  student 
about  the  world  is  quite  irresponsible.  He  turns  to  the 
outer  world  for  amusement,  or  if  he  is  poor,  for  aid  to  self- 
support.  Otherwise  his  personal  interest  is  limited,  and 
seldom  passes  over  into  any  form  of  concern  for  its  welfare. 
Of  course,  the  immediate  and  perhaps  more  permanent 


344  MY  GENERATION 

loss  from  any  such  intellectual  or  moral  indifference  falls 
more  heavily  upon  the  student  himself  than  upon  the 
world.  For  interest  in  the  broadly  human  he  substitutes, 
though  often  unconsciously,  some  form  of  class  conscious- 
ness. His  danger  is  not  so  much  that  of  relapsing  into  mere 
individualism  as  of  allowing  himself  to  be  segregated  in  a 
class.  This  habit  once  acquired,  the  pitfalls  of  a  large  part 
of  the  unhumanized  world  await  him  —  the  various  pit- 
falls of  class  consciousness,  in  place  of  the  broad  vital 
consciousness  of  the  human,  the  social  class,  the  money 
class,  the  labor  class,  the  party,  the  profession.  His  danger 
is  really  that  of  becoming  a  mere  fragment,  rather  than  an 
integral  part  of  the  life  about  him. 

"Public-Mindedness,"  a  volume  of  my  public  addresses 
on  various  aspects  of  good  citizenship,  reflects  the  spirit 
and  tone  of  the  familiar  talks  at  Rollins  Chapel  on  the 
sense  of  the  human,  as  a  part  of  the  moral  equipment  of 
the  college  man  in  his  contact  with  the  world. 

I  refer  to  the  religious  sense  last  because  it  seemed  to 
me  that  it  was  to  be  assumed.  As  the  old-time  "Preacher" 
put  the  matter  with  such  convincing  finality  —  Eccle- 
siastes  in:  11  —  "He  hath  made  everything  beautiful  in 
its  time:  also  He  hath  set  eternity  in  their  heart,  yet  so  that 
man  cannot  find  out  the  work  that  God  hath  done  from 
the  beginning  even  to  the  end."  This  implanting  of 
"eternity"  in  the  heart  of  man,  it  is  to  be  assumed,  has 
made  the  religious  sense  an  abiding  force  in  the  midst 
alike  of  the  distracting  beauty  of  the  world,  and  the  be- 
wildering mystery  of  the  universe.  There  are  unrealities 
in  many  of  the  conventional  beliefs  of  men,  but  I  know  of 
nothing  in  them  to  compare  with  the  absolute  unreality 
of  mere  unbelief.  But  here  again,  as  in  the  development 


o 

h  a 

2  & 

>j  "a 

w  »> 

PL,  « 

■<  2 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  345 

of  the  sense  of  the  personal  and  of  the  sense  of  the  human, 
it  became  evident  to  me  that  the  development  of  the  re- 
ligious sense  must  accord  with  the  habit  of  mind  induced 
by  academic  training,  namely,  the  questioning  habit.  The 
academic  approach  to  a  subject,  the  attack  if  the  subject 
be  difficult,  is  through  the  question.  The  question  persisted 
in  becomes  research,  and  the  cumulative  result  to  the 
questioner  the  scientific  habit  of  mind.  But  one  of  the 
unconscious  effects  is  often  seen  in  a  certain  sag  of  the 
mind,  the  easy  relapse  into  a  merely  questioning  mood,  in 
which  subjects  of  high  moment  may  be  set  aside  for  pos- 
sible consideration  without  regard  to  their  intrinsic  im- 
portance. And  this  laissez-faire  state  of  mind  may  be 
coupled  with  such  pride  of  intellectual  freedom  as  to  create 
a  well-nigh  insufferable  conceit.  It  was  doubtless  such  an 
exhibition  of  conceit  as  called  out  the  impatient  reply 
of  the  Master  of  Balliol  to  the  casual  remark  of  a  student 
who  presented  himself  for  matriculation,  one  of  the  con- 
ditions being  the  assent  of  the  applicant  to  an  article 
affirming  the  existence  of  God,  "Well,  I  haven't  made  up 
my  mind  on  that  subject"  —  "I'll  give  you  fifteen  min- 
utes to  make  it  up."  But  I  always  felt  that  any  like  ex- 
hibition of  ephemeral  conceit  was  to  be  carefully  dis- 
tinguished from  doubt.  The  doubting  mind  always  seemed 
to  me  to  be  a  part  of  the  believing  mind,  and  to  be  so 
classed.  The  genuinely  doubting  mind  welcomes  the  inter- 
pretation of  truth  in  place  of  fruitless  argument  and 
discussion. 

The  College  Chapel,  as  I  believe,  should  allow  the  spirit 
of  the  philosophical  classroom,  but  it  has  its  own  atmo- 
sphere. It  seeks  not  only  the  demonstration  of  truth,  but 
the  impression  of  truth.  Religion  has  its  times  and  seasons 


346  MY  GENERATION 

which  may  properly  be  utilized.  I  never  hesitated  to  ob- 
serve the  seasons  of  Advent  and  Lent  for  direct  religious 
impression.  Academic  religion  has  its  limitations,  but  it  is 
not  straitened  in  itself,  or  in  any  use  of  rational  means 
for  the  development  of  the  religious  sense.  The  college 
environment  may  not  shut  out  that  larger  environment  of 
the  human  world;  much  less  may  it  shut  out  that  far 
greater  environment  which  corresponds  to  the  "eternity" 
set  in  every  human  heart. 

I  hesitate  to  go  further.  The  remembrances  of  the  fifteen 
years  of  contact  with  the  mind  of  the  College,  through  the 
Sunday  Vespers  in  Rollins  Chapel,  are  in  many  ways  too 
personal  even  for  the  pages  of  an  autobiography.  The 
generations  of  college  men  as  they  came  and  went,  filling 
the  rows  of  the  chapel  benches,  still  pass  before  me  in  the 
orderly  procession  of  the  years.  But  the  service  itself  as 
a  medium  of  personal  contact  with  the  College,  may  be 
noted  as  an  illustration  of  one  method  through  which  so 
desirable  an  end  may  be  reached.  More  frequent  use  has 
been,  and  is  still  being  made  of  the  classroom.  Other  ways 
are  yet  more  individual.  Some  men  have  the  gifts  of  the 
"office"  quite  as  marked  in  their  influence  as  the  gifts  of 
the  "chair."  The  chapel  service  came  to  me  as  my  op- 
portunity, and  soon  became  recognized  as  such,  for  seeking 
to  affect  the  college  morale.  I  may  therefore  quote  in  this 
connection  the  opinion  of  two  or  three  who  have  put  on 
record  their  lestimate  of  the  meaning  of  the  service.  In  a 
paper  read  by  Professor  Asakawa  of  Yale  at  the  fifteenth 
reunion  of  his  own  class  (1899)  at  Dartmouth,  and  printed 
in  the  "Dartmouth  Alumni  Magazine"  of  March,  1915, 
the  writer  enters  into  a  most  critical  interpretation  of  this 
particular  service  rendered  by  "our  teacher,"  as  he  applies 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  347 

to  me  the  term  of  such  honor  to  the  Eastern  mind.  The 
whole  paper  interprets  the  intent  and  method  of  the  serv- 
ice with  an  insight  and  understanding  which  humbled 
me  as  I  read  it.  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  this  mark  of  Dr. 
Asakawa's  fine  discernment:  "How  many  of  us  realized 
that  while  we  were  being  stimulated  by  Dr.  Tucker,  he 
himself  was  drawing  inspiration  from  his  work  for  us? 
...  So  there  was  give-and-take  between  him  and  us ;  no 
doubt  he  gave  us  more  than  we  ever  knew,  and  took 
from  us  more  than  we  were  able  to  take  from  him." 

In  a  brief  review  of  the  period  of  my  administration  con- 
tributed to  the  College  "iEgis"  of  1911,  Professor  Charles 
F.  Richardson  gave  the  following  estimate  of  the  relative 
value  of  this  service  as  compared  with  the  external  results 
of  the  administration:  "In  my  opinion  his  (President 
Tucker's)  largest,  most  important  and  enduring  achieve- 
ment has  been  .  .  .  the  effect  of  his  personality  and  his 
teachings  upon  .  .  .  the  undergraduate  body.  This  influ- 
ence has  been  made  manifest  .  .  .  most  of  all  in  his  Sun- 
day evening  talks  at  Rollins  Chapel.  These  have  been 
virtually  unique.  .  .  .  Every  Dartmouth  alumnus  of  the 
past  sixteen  years  will  agree  with  me  that  whatever  he  has 
got  from  the  classroom,  societies,  friendships,  or  the  ath- 
letic field,  nothing  quite  takes  the  place  in  his  tenderest 
memories  of  college  days,  of  Dr.  Tucker's  vesper  talks 
Sunday  after  Sunday." 

I  cannot  refrain  from  adding  to  these  expressions  of 
opinion  from  within  the  College,  this  interpretation  by 
Professor  Francis  G.  Peabody  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
type  of  preaching  disclosed  in  the  volume  of  sermons 
based  on  the  chapel  service.  I  am  indebted  beyond  all 
claims  of  personal  friendship  for  such  a  recognition  of  the 


348  MY  GENERATION 

purpose  of  these  sermons,  by  one  who  is  the  acknowledged 
master  in  the  college  pulpit  of  New  England.  Contrasting 
the  different  methods  pursued  by  English  and  American 
college  preachers  in  an  article  on  "University  Preaching" 
in  the  "Harvard  Theological  Review"  for  April,  1916,  he 
passes  on  to  the  discussion  of  the  possibility  of  combining 
the  more  intimate  approach  of  the  American  preacher 
with  the  larger  horizon  of  the  English  preacher: 

This  synthesis  of  vitality  with  wisdom,  of  personal  appeal  with 
philosophical  insight,  is  not  without  distinguished  illustration  in 
the  university  preaching  of  the  United  States.  "The  Counsels 
to  College  Men,"  the  sub-title  of  "Personal  Power,"  by  Pres- 
ident Tucker  of  Dartmouth  College,  for  example  (one  of  sev- 
eral volumes  of  college  sermons  referred  to),  combine  in  a 
striking  degree  the  intimate  approach  and  the  large  horizon. 
In  their  primary  concern  for  students  as  hearers  they  depart 
from  the  English  tradition;  but  in  their  sweep  of  thought  and 
large  conclusions  they  are  of  the  school  of  Newman  and  Mozley. 
"Let  me  speak  to  you  of  the  satisfactions  of  life,"  begins  one  of 
these  discourses,  as  though  preacher  and  student  stood  together 
on  the  level  of  ordinary  experience;  but  the  same  sermon  ends 
on  the  heights  of  mature  and  prophetic  vision:  "The  modern 
world  will  not  long  be  the  world  which  marked  a  sudden  shift 
from  medievalism.  The  reaction  is  spent.  Neither  is  it  the 
world  of  raw  force  or  of  rank  material  power.  The  noise  and 
smoke  of  its  work,  its  sudden  and  unstable  wealth,  its  pride 
and  vain-glory,  its  impossible  art,  its  commercialized  morals,  its 
crude,  self-sufficient,  unbelieving  men  —  all  these  are  fast  going 
the  way  of  their  kind.  These  do  not  make  up  the  world  of  to- 
morrow, the  world  in  which  your  achievements  are  to  be  ranked 
and  in  which  you  are  to  be  measured.  You  are  in  a  world  which 
will  have  ample  room  in  it  for  the  intellectual  life,  for  rewarding 
action  of  every  kind,  for  sincere  and  satisfying  companionship, 
and  for  faith.  Do  not  miss  your  place  in  it.  Do  not  live  out  of 
date.  Make  your  own  generation.  Take  the  better  fortune  of 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  349 

your  own  time."  Again  the  same  preacher  begins,  with  persua- 
sive simplicity,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Jesus'  test  of 
moral  maturity  "  ;  but  near  its  close  he  rises  to  the  passage: 
"  I  count  it  a  great  moral  obligation  of  all  believing  men  to 
have  faith  in  the  working  power  of  Christ's  sayings.  .  .  .  Be- 
lieve in  men  against  appearances.  Do  not  take  men  at  their 
word  when  they  talk  below  themselves.  Use  the  true,  never 
the  false  in  human  nature,  and  persist  in  doing  this.  So  shall 
you  gain  access,  every  one  of  you  in  his  own  way,  to  the  heart 
of  humanity."  Here  is  movement,  lift,  enlargement,  surprise. 
Through  the  narrow  door  of  personal  experience  the  hearer  is 
led  into  the  great  temple  of  a  rational  faith.  Moral  inspiration 
and  intellectual  precision  meet,  and  from  their  fusion  proceed 
light,  heat,  and  power. 

V 

An  Advanced  Policy  toward  Non-Professional  Graduates 

College  education  in  this  country  was  from  the  very 
beginning  set  to  some  definite  end  outside  and  beyond 
itself.  This  end  has  been  for  the  most  part  satisfied  in  the 
relation  of  the  colleges  to  the  professions.  A  liberal  educa- 
tion has  never  been  allowed  to  become  the  mere  perquisite 
of  a  leisure  class.  We  have  accepted  the  English  require- 
ment that  it  must  be  "fit  for  a  gentleman,"  but  we  have 
added  the  implication  —  a  gentleman  at  work.  With  us 
the  natural  complement  of  a  liberal  education  has  been  a 
professional  life. 

Dartmouth  has  always  kept  faith  with  the  professions, 
and  never  more  strictly  than  in  support  of  the  recent 
efforts  for  the  advancement  of  professional  standards. 
There  have  been  times,  it  is  true,  of  an  unapprehended 
danger  to  the  promotion  of  professional  standards  from 
the  stirrings  of  the  university  idea.  The  position  of  Dart- 
mouth, relatively  remote  from  the  centers,  but  central  to 


35o  MY  GENERATION 

a  large  and  somewhat  distinct  territory,  has  frequently 
suggested  the  ambition  to  assume  the  functions  of  a 
university,  which  if  realized  would  have  added  one  more 
to  the  aggregation  of  minor  professional  schools.  The 
presence  of  the  medical  school,  existing  almost  from  the 
first  in  various  relations  to  the  College,  has  been  a  local 
reminder  of  natural  possibilities  in  this  direction.  Even 
so  sane  a  mind  as  that  of  President  Lord  was  at  one  time 
seriously  infected  with  the  university  idea.  In  1841,  stim- 
ulated by  the  largest  enrollment  in  the  history  of  the  Col- 
lege, placing  it  on  a  full  numerical  equality  with  any  of 
the  New  England  colleges,  he  urged  upon  the  Trustees  the 
restoration  of  the  Chair  of  Divinity  to  active  use,  saying 
that  "another  step,"  referring  to  the  possible  provision 
for  a  law  professorship,  "will  then  place  the  College  in  the 
position  of  a  university,  to  which  Divine  Providence  has 
been  so  evidently  leading  it,  and  for  which  public  opinion 
is  in  a  great  degree  prepared."  The  unaccountable  decline 
in  the  number  of  students  which  soon  followed,  though 
temporary,  and  the  consequent  decline  in  current  income, 
put  the  project  permanently  out  of  thought  during  his 
administration.  The  "idea,"  however,  survived  in  a  plan 
to  organize  a  "learned  Society  that  should  be  nearly  re- 
lated to  the  College  and  serve  to  concentrate  upon  it  the 
moral  and  intellectual  resources  of  the  Northern  part  of 
New  England."  This  plan  was  consummated  in  the  or- 
ganization of  the  Northern  Academy,  which  flourished  for 
quite  a  number  of  years  as  a  literary  society,  and  later  was 
resumed  for  a  time  as  a  scientific  society,  finally  leaving  as 
its  memorial  a  creditable  collection  of  literary  and  scien- 
tific works  to  be  absorbed  into  the  college  library. 

The  university  idea  made  a  still  stronger  appeal  to  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  351 

vivid  imagination  of  President  Smith,  and  during  his  ad- 
ministration came  much  nearer  to  realization.  It  was  his 
aim  to  concentrate  the  higher  educational  interests  of  the 
State  at  Hanover,  and  through  his  efforts  the  New  Hamp- 
shire College  of  Agriculture  and  the  Mechanic  Arts  was 
first  located  there.  The  Thayer  School  was  established  in 
his  administration  practically  on  the  basis  of  a  graduate 
school.  There  was  the  definite  promise,  according  to  public 
announcement,  of  three  large  bequests  which  had  they 
become  available  in  his  time,  would  have  materially  aided 
in  the  working-out  of  his  large  plans.  Their  failure  to 
"arrive"  till  it  was  too  late  for  his  uses,  was  a  pathetic 
illustration  of  the  saying  as  applied  to  successions  in  a 
college  presidency  —  "one  soweth  and  another  reapeth." 
The  subsequent  removal  of  the  Agricultural  College  to 
Durham,  which  took  place  just  before  the  close  of  Pres- 
ident Bartlett's  administration,  closed  the  door  to  further 
efforts  in  behalf  of  a  university  based  on  State  needs  or 
resources.  The  sympathies  and  activities  of  President 
Bartlett  were  altogether  in  favor  of  the  development  of 
the  College  as  such.  It  was  through  his  negotiation  with 
the  heirs  of  the  estate  of  Chief  Justice  Joel  Parker  that  the 
bequest  left  to  the  College  for  the  establishment  of  a  Law 
School  was  converted  into  the  foundation  of  a  professor- 
ship of  Law  and  Political  Science,  and  into  a  library  fund 
for  its  uses.  I  recall,  however,  in  the  early  part  of  my  ad- 
ministration, a  correspondence  with  one  of  our  ablest  legal 
graduates,  Professor  William  C.  Robinson  of  the  Yale 
Law  School,  urging  upon  me  the  recovery  of  this  fund  to 
its  first  proposed  use,  with  an  appeal  to  the  alumni  and 
to  the  State  to  supplement  the  fund  with  an  amount  suf- 
ficient for  the  endowment  of  a  School.  He  urged  this  on 


352  MY  GENERATION 

the  ground  largely  of  state  advantage,  declaring  that  New 
Hampshire  was,  with  one  exception,  the  only  State  in  the 
Union  without  a  law  school.  I  replied  that  I  failed  to  see 
the  local  necessity  in  view  of  the  proximity  of  neighboring 
schools  of  recognized  merit,  and  that  I  could  not  advise 
the  establishment  of  a  law  school  in  connection  with 
Dartmouth  which  might  fall  below  their  standard.  I 
argued  that  Dartmouth  in  this  matter  owed  more  to  the 
profession  than  to  the  State. 

In  regard  to  the  Medical  School,  so  long  and  honorably 
identified  with  the  College,  it  may  be  said  that  it  was 
brought  step  by  step  into  harmony  with  the  progress  of 
medical  instruction  —  first  in  1890,  near  the  close  of 
President  Bartlett's  administration,  by  making  it  a  four 
years'  course,  then  some  years  later  during  my  adminis- 
tration, by  requiring  a  college  training  or  its  equivalent 
for  admission,  and  finally  in  President  Nichols's  adminis- 
tration, being  unable  to  satisfy  the  full  requirements  of 
the  American  Medical  Association  in  the  matter  of  hospital 
service,  by  giving  up  the  last  two  years,  that  the  school 
might  retain  in  the  first  two  years  its  A  standing  among 
the  schools. 

For  the  teaching  profession,  the  College  has  not  at- 
tempted to  establish  a  Graduate  School.  Graduate  study 
has  been  confined  to  a  few  departments  which  have  had 
at  times  special  facilities  for  carrying  it  on  successfully. 

In  one  way  or  other  —  in  its  earlier  history  by  the  force 
of  circumstances  and  in  later  times  by  fixed  purpose  — 
Dartmouth  had  been  preserved  from  becoming  the  danger 
to  the  professions  which  the  small  university,  with  its 
inferior  facilities  for  reaching  the  higher  professional 
standards,  presents.  In  its  numerical  accounting  with  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  353 

professions,  the  account  of  Dartmouth  represented  very 
nearly  the  entire  contribution  of  its  graduates,  until  the 
responsibility  of  the  College  to  its  non-professional  grad- 
uates became  more  urgent,  if  not  more  important. 

When  I  recall  the  historic  position  of  Dartmouth  and 
its  relation  to  the  apparently  conflicting  demands  of  lib- 
eral and  professional  education,  I  am  ready  to  accept  in 
its  behalf  the  congratulatory  words  of  President  Hadley 
of  Yale  on  the  occasion  of  the  rebuilding  of  Dartmouth 
Hall:  "Yale  sends  congratulations  on  the  rebuilding  of 
what  has  been  in  many  senses  a  historical  edifice  in  the 
American  college  world.  For  nearly  three  half-centuries 
Dartmouth  has  occupied  an  exceptional  position:  in  the 
first  generation  as  the  northern  outpost  of  American 
science  and  religion  —  like  Durham  of  old; 

Half  house  of  God,  half  castle  'gainst  the  Scot; 

in  the  next  generation  as  the  training  place  of  one  who, 
amid  his  many  titles  to  fame  and  honor,  has  this  special 
claim  upon  the  remembrance  of  American  scholars,  that 
his  efforts  made  our  college  charters  eternally  secure;  and 
during  later  generations  as  an  institution  whose  work  for 
the  cause  of  higher  learning  is  thrown  into  salient  relief 
by  the  fact  that  where  so  many  institutions  claim  to  do 
more  than  they  actually  accomplish,  Dartmouth  accom- 
plishes more  than  she  claims." 

In  the  closing  decade  of  the  last  century  a  marked 
change  in  the  occupations  of  college  graduates  took  place, 
or  rather  became  almost  startlingly  apparent.  A  profession 
was  no  longer  the  exclusive  goal.  A  new  and  large  area 
of  occupation  had  been  entered  upon  under  the  general 
term  of  business.  From  the  conventional  point  of  view  of 


354  MY  GENERATION 

the  professions,  the  colleges  were  producing  the  "excess" 
graduate. 

Comparing  the  statistics  for  the  first  two  periods  of 
fifty  years  each  in  the  productive  energy  of  Dartmouth 
with  the  thirty  years  immediately  following,  which  brought 
the  College  to  the  close  of  the  century,  we  have  this  result 
—  from  1771-1820,  graduates  entering  the  professions  of 
law,  ministry,  teaching,  and  medicine,  ninety  per  cent; 
from  1821-1870,  eighty-six  per  cent;  from  1871  to  1900, 
sixty-four  per  cent.  The  sharpness  of  the  change  is  seen 
in  the  further  drop  in  the  succeeding  decade,  the  open- 
ing decade  of  the  present  century,  from  sixty-four  per 
cent  to  fifty-one  per  cent.  The  change  here  noted  in  re- 
spect to  Dartmouth  was  representative  of  that  which  was 
taking  place  in  all  the  Eastern  colleges,  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  which  was  not  to  be  estimated  in  numbers.  The 
change  meant  that  the  colleges  representing  a  liberal 
education  were  failing  to  make  a  responsible  connection, 
through  the  lack  of  a  proper  intervening  training,  with 
the  world  of  affairs.  The  interests  in  that  newer  world 
were  quite  comparable  with  those  involved  in  professional 
life — banking,  corporate  administration,  and  all  the  prob- 
lems incident  to  the  economic  development  of  the  coun- 
try. It  was  a  confession  of  the  inutility  or  narrowness  of 
a  liberal  education,  for  the  colleges  to  leave  their  gradu- 
ates in  a  helpless  attitude  before  their  new  responsibilities, 
or  to  commit  them  altogether  to  the  fortune  of  their  per- 
sonal initiative.  The  introduction  of  so-called  "business 
courses"  into  the  undergraduate  curriculum  was  evidently 
a  superficial  and  confusing  treatment  of  the  difficulty. 

It  was  in  the  attempt  to  offer  some  satisfactory  solution 
of  the  problem  confronting  the  colleges  that  the  Amos 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  355 

Tuck  School  of  Administration  and  Finance  had  its  origin. 
In  the  specifications  attending  the  gift  of  the  Tuck  fund, 
provision  had  been  made  for  the  possible  uses,  in  part,  of 
the  income  from  the  fund  for  "professorships  which  may 
be  in  the  future  established  in  the  College  proper  or  in 
post-graduate  departments,  should  such  be  added  at  any 
time  to  the  regular  college  course."  As  it  had  been  de- 
termined to  apply  the  income  of  the  Tuck  fund  mainly 
to  the  Department  of  Economics  and  kindred  depart- 
ments, it  was  now  proposed  to  carry  over  the  instruction 
in  these  departments  into  advanced  courses  which  should 
constitute  the  basis  of  a  graduate  school.  I  was  authorized 
by  the  Trustees  to  put  this  proposed  action  before  Mr. 
Tuck,  to  ascertain  if  it  would  accord  with  his  understand- 
ing of  the  uses  of  the  Fund.  This  I  did  in  a  letter  under 
date  of  December  1,  1899,  enclosing  a  memorandum  out- 
lining the  aim  and  methods  of  the  proposed  school.  In 
response  I  received  the  cablegram  —  "Letter  received. 
Fully  approve  proposed  action  in  all  points";  and  later  by 
letter  the  following  endorsement  of  the  plan: 

The  establishment  of  the  Amos  Tuck  School  of  Administra- 
tion and  Finance  has  my  full  approval.  The  statement  which 
you  make  of  its  purpose  and  scope  is  clear  and  convincing.  I 
believe  that  it  is  just  in  the  line  of  modern  educational  require- 
ments and  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  your  plan  put  into  effect. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Trustees,  held  June  19,  1900,  it  was 
voted,  "that  the  Trustees  establish  The  Amos  Tuck 
School  of  Administration  and  Finance,  on  the  following 
outlines,  presented  by  the  President  " : 

Under  the  terms  of  the  Amos  Tuck  Endowment  Fund,  the 
gift  by  Mr.  Edward  Tuck,  of  the  Class  of  1862,  of  the  sum  of 


356  MY  GENERATION 

Three  Hundred  Thousand  Dollars  as  a  memorial  to  his  father, 
the  Hon.  Amos  Tuck  of  the  Class  of  1835,  and  a  Trustee  of  the 
College  from  1857  to  1866,  especial  provision  was  made  for  the 
"establishment  of  additional  professorships  within  the  College 
proper  or  in  graduate  departments."  In  accordance  with  this 
provision  of  the  endowment  fund  for  additional  instruction  in 
undergraduate  and  graduate  courses,  and  with  the  approval  of 
the  donor,  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College  hereby  create  the 
Amos  Tuck  School  of  Administration  and  Finance. 

First.  This  school  is  established  in  the  interest  of  college 
graduates  who  desire  to  engage  in  affairs  rather  than  enter  the 
professions.  It  is  the  aim  of  the  school  to  prepare  men  in  those 
fundamental  principles  which  determine  the  conduct  of  affairs, 
and  to  give  specific  instruction  in  the  laws  pertaining  to  prop- 
erty, in  the  management  of  trusts  and  investments,  in  the 
problems  of  taxation  and  currency,  in  the  methods  of  corporate 
and  municipal  administration,  and  in  subjects  connected  with 
the  civil  and  consular  service.  The  attempt  will  be  made  to 
follow  the  increasing  number  of  college  graduates  who  have  in 
view  administrative  or  financial  careers,  with  a  preparation 
equivalent  in  its  purpose  to  that  obtained 'in  the  professional  or 
technical  schools.  The  training  of  the  school  is  not  designed  to 
take  the  place  of  an  apprenticeship  in  any  given  business,  but  it 
is  believed  that  the  same  amount  of  academic  training  is  called 
for,  under  the  enlarging  demands  of  business,  as  for  the  pro- 
fessions or  for  the  productive  industries. 

Second.  The  school  is  open  to  those  who  present  a  Bachelor's 
degree  and  in  special  cases  to  those  who  are  able  to  pass  an  ex- 
amination which  will  guarantee  an  equal  fitness  for  the  studies 
to  be  pursued.  The  courses  which  are  now  offered  cover  two 
years  of  graduate  study.  If  a  student  is  able  to  present  courses 
taken  as  advanced  electives  in  the  undergraduate  curriculum 
which  are  substantially  the  same  as  those  offered  in  the  first 
year,  he  will  be  given  standing  in  the  second  year.  Special  stu- 
dents may  be  received  for  the  pursuit  of  particular  courses  who 
will  be  given  certificates  for  work  actually  accomplished,  but 
who  will  not  receive  the  full  certification  or  degree  of  the  school. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  357 

Third.  The  courses  of  study  pursued  within  the  school  shall 
be  chiefly  those  which  lie  within  the  departments  of  Modern 
History,  Economics,  Sociology,  Political  Science  and  Law,  to- 
gether with  the  departments  of  modern  languages.  In  all  cases 
the  work  of  the  school  shall  represent  advanced  courses  in  these 
departments.  In  the  first  year  the  courses  shall  be  largely  the- 
oretical; in  the  second  year  they  shall  represent  the  application 
of  theory  to  particular  forms  of  business  so  far  as  practicable. 

Fourth.  The  work  of  the  school  shall  be  carried  on  by  in- 
structors in  Dartmouth  College  within  the  departments  above 
named,  with  the  assistance  of  special  instructors  or  lecturers  on 
definite  topics  which  may  be  prescribed.  In  so  far  as  instructors 
in  the  academic  department  of  the  College  take  part  in  the  in- 
struction of  the  school  it  shall  be  without  extra  compensation. 
[This  specification  was  later  amended  to  provide  in  large  degree 
for  separate  instructors  in  the  school.] 

Fifth.  Tuition  for  the  school  shall  be  the  same  as  for  the  col- 
lege, but  scholarships  given  for  students  in  the  College  shall  not 
be  available  for  students  in  the  school,  except  for  those  who  may 
be  enrolled  during  the  first  year  both  in  the  College  and  in  the 
school. 

The  school  having  been  organized  and  preparations 
made  for  instruction  the  following  year,  Mr.  Tuck  supple- 
mented his  original  gift  by  the  transfer  of  securities  for  the 
erection  of  a  suitable  building  for  the  school.  Under  date 
of  August  29,  1901,  he  wrote: 

I  am  now  sending  you  certificates  for  Five  Hundred  shares,  pre- 
ferred stock  of  the  Great  Northern  Railway  Company  of  Minne- 
sota, registered  in  the  name  of  "  The  Trustees  of  Dartmouth 
College,"  to  be  added  to  the  "Amos  Tuck  Endowment  Fund." 

The  purpose  of  this  donation  is  to  supply  the  necessary  means 
for  erecting,  equipping  and  maintaining  a  building  suited  to  the 
uses  of  the  Tuck  School  of  Administration  and  Finance,  and 
incidentally  for  the  accommodation  of  such  other  kindred  de- 
partments of  the  College  as  the  Trustees  may  deem  wise  and 
appropriate. 


358  MY  GENERATION 

To  the  correspondence  of  Mr.  Tuck  regarding  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  school  should  be  added  his  statement 
of  the  ethical  purpose  which  should  inspire  alike  instruc- 
tors and  graduates.  This  statement  is  inscribed  on  a 
tablet  placed  midway  on  the  double  stairway  opposite 
the  entrance  to  the  building: 

In  the  conduct  of  the  school  to  which  you  have  done  my 
father's  memory  the  honor  of  attaching  his  name,  I  trust  that 
certain  elementary  but  vital  principles,  on  which  he  greatly 
dwelt  in  his  advice  to  young  men,  whether  entering  upon  a  pro- 
fessional or  business  career,  may  not  be  lost  sight  of  in  the 
variety  of  technical  subjects  of  which  the  regular  curriculum  is 
composed.  Briefly,  these  principles  or  maxims  are:  absolute  de- 
votion to  the  career  which  one  selects,  and  to  the  interests  of 
one's  superiors  or  employers;  the  desire  and  determination  to 
do  more  rather  than  less  than  one's  required  duties;  perfect 
accuracy  and  promptness  in  all  undertakings,  and  absence  from 
one's  vocabulary  of  the  word  "forget";  never  to  vary  a  hair's 
breadth  from  the  truth  nor  from  the  path  of  strictest  honesty 
and  honor,  with  perfect  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  doing  right 
as  the  surest  means  of  achieving  success.  To  the  maxim  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy  should  be  added  another:  that  altruism 
is  the  highest  and  best  form  of  egoism  as  a  principle  of  conduct 
to  be  followed  by  those  who  strive  for  success  and  happiness  in 
public  or  business  relations  as  well  as  in  those  of  private  life. 

In  establishing  the  Tuck  School  as  a  school  of  advanced 
instruction,  the  College  took  a  step  in  the  exercise  of  the 
creative  function  of  liberal  education.  Once  before  it  had 
moved,  though  not  so  directly  upon  its  own  initiative,  in 
the  same  direction.  When  General  Sylvanus  Thayer,  a 
graduate  of  the  class  of  1807,  known  at  West  Point  as 
the  "Father  of  the  Military  Academy,"  sought  for  some 
definite  way  of  advancing  Civil  Engineering  to  the  grade 
of  the  professions,  he  turned  to  his  Alma  Mater  for  aid. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  359 

What  he  wanted  to  secure  was  the  breadth  and  stimulus 
of  a  liberal  education  in  the  furtherance  of  his  purpose. 
At  his  request  the  College  became  the  "trustee"  of  the 
fund  which  he  had  set  apart  for  the  endowment  of  a  grad- 
uate school.  The  virtual  control  of  the  school  was  to  rest 
with  a  Board  of  Overseers,  first  to  be  appointed  by  him- 
self and  then  to  be  self -perpetuating,  the  President  of  the 
College  to  be  president  of  the  Board.  This  was  in  1874. 
The  Trustees  of  the  College  assented  to  the  arrangement, 
which  proved  to  be  highly  advantageous  to  both  parties. 
In  1908,  the  Trustees  recognized  the  School  as  consti- 
tuting "in  fact  and  substance  a  post-graduate  course  or 
department  of  the  College." 

The  success  of  the  Thayer  School  in  helping  to  carry 
out  the  aim  of  its  founder  was  in  mind  when  the  thought 
of  a  school  of  like  aims  in  the  sphere  of  Finance  began  to 
take  shape.  There  were,  however,  two  causes  which  gave 
a  certain  immediacy  to  the  establishment  of  the  Tuck 
School  —  first  the  urgency  of  the  situation,  and  second 
the  willing  response  of  Mr.  Tuck  to  the  proposal.  These 
two  causes  were  the  justification,  the  ample  justification, 
for  the  prompt  exercise  of  what  I  have  termed  the  creative 
function  of  liberal  education. 

But  the  broad  educational  reason  for  such  an  invasion 
of  the  business  world  as  that  carried  out  through  the  Tuck 
School,  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  higher  education  was  work- 
ing very  unequally  in  that  unclassified  region.  The  tech- 
nical schools  were  at  work  for  a  definite  purpose.  Their 
training  created  a  habit  of  mind  of  great  value :  but  there 
was  need  of  another  habit  of  mind  which  might  work  with 
equal  definiteness.  If  there  were  occupations  of  high  grade 
which  required  the  rigidly  scientific  habit,  there  were  other 


360  MY  GENERATION 

occupations  which  required  the  habit  of  analysis,  com- 
parison, and  coordination.  This  was  the  habit  requisite  to 
large  success  in  the  economic  field.  It  was  by  distinction 
the  habit  sought  to  be  produced  by  a  liberal  education. 
And  a  further  demand  of  the  economic  field  was  for  mind 
trained  in  the  consideration  of  the  human  element  in  the 
practical  world.  Questions  of  labor  were  as  much  a  part  of 
the  economic  problem  as  questions  of  finance.  Modern 
science  had  created  the  industrial  world,  it  had  become  a 
matter  of  economic  concern  to  humanize  it. 

I  cannot  put  by  this  conception  of  the  creative,  inform- 
ing, humanizing  function  of  a  liberal  education  without 
emphasizing  the  present  need  of  the  continuous  exercise 
in  some  form  of  this  function,  by  those  who  may  be  assumed 
to  know  its  use.  There  is  a  habit  of  mind  among  the  grad- 
uates of  our  colleges,  which  fosters  too  much  the  idea  of 
the  immunity  of  a  liberal  education  from  the  distracting 
and  disintegrating  influences  of  modern  thought  and  life. 
I  know  of  but  one  way  to  break  up  this  habit,  namely, 
for  the  colleges  to  follow  their  graduates  with  the  stim- 
ulus of  the  education  of  which  they  may  be  made  more 
appreciative  than  they  were  in  their  undergraduate  days; 
to  go  in  and  out  among  them  with  the  liberating  and  lib- 
eralizing idea  which  they  may  never  have  really  under- 
stood; to  make  them  feel,  it  may  be,  through  their  own 
belated  experiences  the  vital  and  far-reaching  influence 
of  the  liberal  education,  if  it  be  given  the  freedom  of  the 
modern  world.  With  this  view  of  present  educational  ne- 
cessities, I  read  with  great  interest  the  recent  announce- 
ment of  President  Hopkins  of  the  founding  of  two  ample 
lectureships  for  the  special  object  of  stimulating  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  alumni,  through  the  perpetuation 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  361 

of  the  original  impulse  which  sent  them  to  college,  act- 
ing now  in  a  vastly  wider  environment.  I  quote  the  an- 
nouncement from  the  report  in  the  "Dartmouth  Alumni 
Magazine"  of  the  exercises  at  the  dinner  following  the 
Commencement  of  1917: 

I  have  the  privilege  of  announcing  another  gift  to  the  College 
from  one  of  its  most  loyal  alumni,  in  the  establishment  of  two 
lectureships  of  major  import,  designed  primarily  for  the  alumni 
of  Dartmouth  College,  and  open  to  students  of  the  College  or 
friends  who  may  wish  to  utilize  the  advantages  of  the  scheme 
as  proposed.  This  is  made  possible  through  the  generosity  of  Mr. 
Henry  L.  Moore,  one  of  the  trustees  of  the  College,  and  a  grad- 
uate of  the  class  of  '77  now  celebrating  its  fortieth  anniversary. 

The  lectureships  will  be  known  as  "  The  Dartmouth  Alumni 
Lectureships  on  the  Guernsey  Center  Moore  Foundation,"  and 
they  are  established  in  loving  remembrance  of  Mr.  Moore's  son, 
a  member  of  the  class  of  1904,  whose  sad  death  occurred  early 
in  his  course. 

This  gift  is  an  extension  on  Mr.  Moore's  part  of  the  principle  to 
which  he  committed  himself  more  than  ten  years  ago,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  advice  of  President  Tucker,  that  great  good  could 
be  done  the  College  by  the  donating  of  such  funds  as  Mr.  Moore 
found  himself  able  to  give  the  College  for  the  purpose  of  its  cul- 
tural advantage.  In  accordance  with  this  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  donor,  the  frequent  gifts  to  the  College  from  him  have  been 
applied  to  the  development  of  the  work  in  Fine  Arts.  It  is  a 
logical  and  profitable  extension  of  such  an  interest  that  now 
makes  available  for  alumni  and  friends  of  the  College  a  cultural 
opportunity  to  sit  under  leaders  of  the  world's  thought,  who 
may  be  secured  to  speak  on  various  themes  with  which  the  pur- 
poses of  the  College  concern  themselves.  The  tentative  plan  is 
something  like  this,  —  that  the  lectures  shall  be  given  annually 
by  two  men  of  the  highest  distinction  in  their  respective  fields. 
They  will  occur  daily,  five  days  in  the  week,  for  two  weeks,  —  a 
total  of  ten  lectures  from  each  man.  It  is  expected  that  this  will 
be  an  opportunity  eagerly  seized  upon  by  men  as  they  come  to 


362  MY  GENERATION 

understand  in  regard  to  it,  and  working  to  greater  and  greater 
advantage  of  the  alumni  of  the  College  in  eliminating  the  present 
anomalous  condition,  in  which  the  College  makes  no  attempt 
whatsoever  to  perpetuate  its  cultural  influence  on  its  graduates 
after  the  date  upon  which  they  receive  their  diplomas. 

Some  colleges,  placed  within  large  cities,  do  extension  work 
in  their  own  communities;  and  others,  administered  under 
state  auspices,  render  large  service  to  their  state  constituencies. 
Mr.  Moore's  plan,  however,  projects  an  extension  work  for  the 
benefit  of  college  graduates,  and  men  whose  interests  lead  them 
into  these  groups.  The  proposal  is  based  on  the  argument  that, 
if  the  College  has  conviction  that  its  influence  is  worth  seeking 
at  the  expense  of  four  vital  years  in  the  formative  period  of  a 
man's  life,  the  College  ought  to  offer  some  method  of  giving 
access  to  this  influence  to  its  graduates  in  their  subsequent  years. 
Moreover,  the  growing  practice  of  retiring  men  from  active 
work  at  ages  from  sixty-five  to  seventy,  and  the  not  infrequent 
tragedy  of  the  man  who  has  no  resources  for  interesting  himself 
outside  the  routine  of  which  he  has  been  relieved,  make  it  seem 
that  the  College  has  no  less  an  opportunity  to  be  of  service  to 
its  men  in  their  old  age  than  in  their  youth,  if  only  it  can  es- 
tablish the  procedure  by  which  it  can  periodically  throughout 
their  lives  give  them  opportunity  to  replenish  their  intellectual 
reserves. 

Mr.  Moore's  assurance  to  the  trustees  has  been  that  he  would 
be  glad  to  make  the  income  of  $100,000  available  to  the  College 
for  a  period  of  years,  for  the  support  of  this  plan;  and  if  the  plan 
should  prove  to  have  the  advantage  that  it  is  expected  to  have, 
that  he  would  then  transfer  the  principal  to  the  College,  thus 
insuring  permanency  to  the  project. 

VI 

Professional  and  Public  Relations  during  the  Presidency 

The  college  presidency  is  an  anomaly  among  the  pro- 
fessions. In  and  of  itself  it  has  no  professional  standing. 
"Whoever  occupies  it  must  furnish  his  own  professional 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  363 

guarantees.  The  multiplicity  of  academic  degrees  with 
which  the  average  college  president  is  invested  has  in 
this  respect  no  significance.  Academic  degrees  are  of  three 
kinds  —  the  earned  degree  which  defines  one  professionally; 
the  honorary  degree  bestowed  presumably  for  professional 
excellence,  most  happily  bestowed  when  it  is  a  reward  for 
excellence  without  the  aid  of  academic  training  and  the 
complimentary  degree  of  which  college  presidents  are 
made  the  unhappy  recipients  as  the  representatives  of 
their  respective  colleges.  The  custom  of  the  past  one  or 
two  decades  of  making  the  inauguration  of  a  college  pres- 
ident the  occasion  for  conferring  degrees  upon  all  within 
the  reach  of  the  particular  academic  fellowship,  so  far  as 
time  allows,  has  ceased  to  be  significant  or  impressive.  It 
is  a  custom  which  as  "honored  in  the  breach"  confers 
honor  upon  the  college  that  exercises  a  becoming  self-re- 
straint. 

It  is,  of  course,  an  infelicity  that  there  is  no  authorized 
academic  approach  to  a  college  presidency,  not  even 
through  the  faculty.  Neither  teaching  nor  research  can 
give  the  requisite  training  for  administration.  There  are 
indications  of  the  growing  recognition  of  the  normal  path 
to  administrative  responsibility  through  some  form  of 
direct  administrative  training.  Examples  of  the  tendency 
are  to  be  seen  in  the  recent  election  of  Secretary  Hopkins, 
though  after  a  short  period  of  executive  service  elsewhere, 
to  the  presidency  of  Dartmouth,  and  of  Dean  Sills  to  the 
presidency  of  Bowdoin.  Doubtless  in  due  time  a  college 
presidency  will  evolve  or  acquire  its  own  professional 
standing.  Meanwhile  the  distinguishing  feature  of  a  college 
presidency  in  the  place  allotted  to  it  by  courtesy  among  the 
professions  is  the  ground  it  covers.  No  profession  has  the 


364  MY  GENERATION 

same  variety  of  semi-public  duties  assigned  to  it  or  ex- 
pected of  it.  The  public  expectation  is  not  infrequently 
embarrassing  as  it  finds  expression  in  the  neatly  turned 
compliment.  In  introducing  me,  soon  after  my  advent  at 
Dartmouth,  as  a  speaker  at  the  dedication  of  the  new  state 
library  building  of  New  Hampshire,  the  presiding  officer 
made  use  very  graciously  of  the  epigram  of  Macaulay  on 
Sir  William  Temple.  "I  think,"  he  said,  "that  I  may  adopt 
the  words  of  the  brilliant  essayist  and  historian  in  intro- 
ducing to  you  Dr.  Tucker,  President  of  Dartmouth  —  'a 
man  of  the  world  among  men  of  letters,  and  a  man  of 
letters  among  men  of  the  world.'"  However  much  I  might 
have  been  disposed  to  disclaim  the  right  to  a  place  in  the 
historic  succession  to  this  epigram,  I  could  not  deny  its 
pertinence  as  expressing  the  public  estimate  of  the  sup- 
posed fitness  for  the  position  I  had  assumed. 

When  one's  professional  career  is  broken  in  upon  mid- 
way, through  a  sudden  change  in  work,  it  is  inevitable  that 
some  unfinished  tasks  or  unfulfilled  engagements  must  be 
carried  over  into  the  new  work.  The  sudden  change  from 
Andover  to  Dartmouth  found  me  under  certain  obligations 
of  which  I  could  not  at  once  divest  myself.  I  have  referred 
to  the  fact  that  I  had  been  obliged  to  ask  for  a  year's  de- 
ferment of  my  engagement  at  the  Lowell  Institute.  The 
deferred  date  was  reached  in  the  winter  of  my  first  year 
at  Dartmouth.  The  engagement  was  for  eight  lectures  at 
Huntington  Hall  on  Monday  and  Thursday  evenings  of 
successive  weeks.  As  I  had  been  unable  to  make  full 
preparation  in  advance,  especially  in  the  writing  of  the 
lectures,  I  found  it  necessary  to  absent  myself  from  the 
college  for  a  month,  taking  up  my  quarters  at  the  Parker 
House,  where  I  had  become  much  at  home,  and  devoting 


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PRESIDENT  TUCKER,  If 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  365 

myself  with  little  time  for  anything  else  to  the  continuous 
and  strenuous  work  before  me.  I  need  hardly  say  that  it 
was  of  absorbing  interest.  The  subject  which  Mr.  Lowell 
had  chosen  —  "The  Influence  of  Religion  To-day"  —  I 
construed  to  mean  the  power  of  religion  to  make  its  in- 
fluence felt  at  a  time  marked  by  the  partial  suspension  of 
its  authority.  The  lectures  were  fully  reported  in  the  daily 
papers.  The  Boston  correspondent  of  the  "Outlook," 
Julius  H.  Ward,  on  the  staff  of  the  "Herald,"  gave  the 
following  summary  of  the  course,  leading  into  a  discussion 
of  the  treatment  of  the  several  topics : 

The  aim  of  President  Tucker  in  these  lectures  has  been  not  to 
discuss  organized  religion  and  ecclesiasticism,  but  to  recognize 
the  religious  spirit  wherever  it  exists,  and  to  show  by  significant 
illustrations  in  what  direction  religious  thought  is  moving  and 
working  in  our  own  time.  It  has  been  notable,  as  these  lectures 
have  proceeded,  how  skillfully  Dr.  Tucker  has  unloaded  the- 
ological baggage  and  got  down  to  the  real  point  of  things.  He 
escaped  at  once  from  the  environment  of  formal  religion  by 
taking  a  certain  point  of  view.  This  will  be  perhaps  best  seen 
by  a  summary  of  the  titles  of  the  lectures  in  succession.  The  first 
was  on  the  direction  of  spiritual  influence  to-day;  the  second 
was  on  religion  as  it  expresses  itself  through  the  "  enthusiasm 
for  humanity";  the  third  took  up  religion  as  the  reformer  of 
theology,  passing  beyond  its  organized  forms;  the  fourth  traced 
the  development  and  bearings  of  agnosticism;  the  fifth  traced 
the  growth  and  the  bearings  of  secularism ;  the  sixth  took  up  the 
present  significance  of  religious  toleration;  the  seventh  treated 
the  reciprocity  of  religions,  and  showed  the  mutual  influence  of 
the  diverse  minds  and  races  now  coming  into  religious  contact; 
and  the  eighth  treated  of  religious  unity  as  waiting  the  coming 
of  the  full  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

The  preparation  and  delivery  of  these  lectures,  though 
as  I  have  said  a  very  strenuous  piece  of  work,  was  to  me 


366  MY  GENERATION 

an  intellectual  stimulus  and  refreshment,  and  not  without 
a  certain  advantage  to  the  College,  in  relating  it  more 
directly  as  an  institution  to  the  intellectual  life  of  Boston. 
As  the  "Advertiser"  remarked  —  "Dartmouth  has  long 
been  prominent  in  Boston  through  her  graduates ;  now  for 
the  first  time  it  is  beginning  to  be  felt  through  the  distinct 
personal  contact  of  her  president"  —  a  remark,  however, 
not  strictly  true,  if  intended  to  include  the  college  Fac- 
ulty. Professor  Samuel  Gilman  Brown  gave  a  course  at 
the  Lowell  Institute  during  my  college  course  on  "English 
Parliamentary  Orators,"  which  he  repeated,  according  to 
my  vivid  recollection,  in  the  old  College  Church. 

For  a  time  after  removing  to  Hanover  I  must  have  con- 
tinued to  preach,  as  circumstances  in  the  College  allowed, 
as  I  find  by  the  following  letter  from  Dr.  Cabot,  which 
gives  some  indication  of  the  difficulties  I  experienced  in 
giving  over  many  of  the  personal  associations  I  had  formed 
in  the  frequent  supply  of  pulpits  in  Boston  and  vicinity. 


Massachusetts  General  Hospital 
April  17,  1894 
Dear  Sir, 

I  heard  your  sermons  of  last  Sunday,  and  feel  that  I  ought  to 
write  to  you  about  them. 

I  have  heard  a  great  many  sermons  in  the  last  ten  years  and 
have  inevitably  listened  to  them  in  the  light  of  my  scientific  and 
philosophic  study.  Although  I  have  profited  by  many  of  them, 
the  larger  portion  have  seemed  to  lose  something  of  the  weight 
they  ought  to  have  for  the  lack  either  of  certainty,  or  of  the 
grounds  for  certainty  in  the  speaker's  mind.  Those  who  trusted 
their  truth,  did  so,  it  seemed  to  me,  too  often  on  insufficient  evi- 
dence; while  those  who  had  sifted  the  evidence  more  consci- 
entiously, had  not  attained  to  such  fulness  of  belief  as  could 
establish  confidence  in  their  hearers. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  367 

Therefore  it  marks  an  epoch  in  my  life  to  come  in  contact  with 
a  man  who  is  as  sure  of  his  truth  as  you  are,  and  upon  such  good 
grounds.  There  seems  to  me  to  be  a  great  hunger  among  the 
people  I  see  for  just  what  you  give,  —  a  rational  Christianity. 
We  have  so  much  rationalism  that  is  unchristian,  and  so  much 
Christianity  that  is  not  rational  in  Boston  that  many  have  come 
to  the  belief  that  a  rational  Christianity  is  impossible. 

I  suppose  any  man  cares  to  know  as  far  as  he  can  that  his  work 
is  effective.  It  seems  to  me  that  such  sermons  as  you  preached 
last  Sunday  are  more  important  and  more  helpful  to  the  present 
generation  in  the  present  phase  of  their  development  than  any 
single  influence  I  know  of.  That  they  should  impress  me  —  an 
average  listener  —  so  deeply,  and  that  I  should  hear  of  them  from 
other  physicians  and  from  most  of  the  educated  men  to  whom  I 
have  spoken  of  them,  as  producing  a  similar  effect  on  them, 
seems  to  me  a  fact  in  which  you  might  justly  take  satisfaction. 
My  only  regret  is  that  you  are  not  established  where  Boston  can 
hear  more  of  you. 

I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  your  sermons  and  for  all  that 
they  stand  as  results  of. 

Yours  sincerely 

Richard  C.  Cabot,  M.D. 


I  greatly  value  this  letter  as  showing  the  stimulus  to  a 
preacher  in  the  spirit  and  attitude  of  many  of  the  most 
highly  trained  and  discriminating  minds  towards  religious 
truth. 

My  personal  connection  with  certain  local  interests  in 
Boston  was  maintained  for  a  considerable  time  through 
my  continued  identification  with  the  Andover  (South 
End)  House;  and  until  now  my  knowledge  of  those  inter- 
ests and  affairs  which  I  have  had  most  in  mind,  has  been 
maintained  through  my  uninterrupted  intimacy  with  Mr. 
Robert  A.  Woods,  the  Head  of  the  House. 

Another  deferred  engagement  was  that  of  service  on  the 


368  MY  GENERATION 

Harvard  Board  of  Preachers.  This  service  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  occasional  preaching  at  Appleton  Chapel, 
calling  for  three  weeks  of  daily  attendance  at  the  Uni- 
versity twice  a  year,  and  including  the  Sundays  at  Apple- 
ton  Chapel,  the  daily  conduct  of  morning  chapel  with  a 
brief  address,  daily  office  hours  during  the  forenoon  at 
Wadsworth  House,  following  the  service  in  the  Chapel. 
Through  the  considerate  kindness  of  Professor  Peabody,  I 
was  relieved  of  half  of  the  engagement ;  and  the  engagement 
itself  had  more  than  a  compensation  in  the  friendly  inter- 
change of  services  which  brought  Professor  Peabody  to 
the  Dartmouth  Board  of  Preachers,  and  Professor  George 
H.  Palmer  to  a  lectureship  for  two  successive  years  in  the 
Department  of  Philosophy. 

Still  another  deferred  engagement  I  have  taken  note 
of  in  another  connection,  the  delivery  in  1898  of  the  Yale 
Lectures  on  Preaching,  on  the  Lyman  Beecher  Founda- 
tion. The  subject  of  this  course  of  lectures  was  "The  Mak- 
ing and  the  Unmaking  of  the  Preacher."  The  lectures  were 
published  under  the  above  title  by  Houghton  Mifflin 
Company. 

I  make  reference  because  of  the  connection  to  yet  an- 
other course  of  lectures,  not  at  all  a  deferred  engagement, 
but  given  in  response  to  an  invitation  from  the  Directors 
and  Faculty  of  Union  Seminary,  on  the  Morse  Founda- 
tion, which  found  me  in  a  willing  mood  on  account  of  a  fit 
subject  that  had  for  some  time  occupied  my  mind  in  its 
freer  hours,  namely,  the  distinctive  problem  of  modern 
Christianity.  I  think  that  my  interest  in  this  particular 
problem  started  from  a  remark  by  Mr.  Huxley  to  the 
effect  that  the  world  in  which  he  lived  for  the  most 
part  was  neither  Christian  nor  unchristian,  but  extra- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  369 

Christian.  What  was,  or  should  be  the  definite  relation  of 
Christianity  to  this  extra-Christian  world?  This  was  an 
intensely  practical  question,  for  this  extra-Christian  world 
of  Mr.  Huxley's  evidently  corresponded  quite  closely  to 
what  we  had  begun  to  know  as  the  modern  world,  a  cre- 
ative world,  vital  with  forces  which  are  in. themselves  the 
sources  of  human  progress.  Rut  Christianity  is  a  religion, 
the  only  religion,  which  undertakes  to  deal  with  man  as  the 
subject  of  progress  whatever  may  be  the  sources  of  progress. 
What  then  shall  be  its  relation  to  the  modern  world  whose 
progress  is  due  so  largely  to  causes  outside  the  action  of 
forces  peculiar  to  Christianity?  The  lectures  on  this  sub- 
ject were  given  in  New  York  in  1902,  under  the  broad  title 
of  "Modern  Christianity"  —  by  no  means  so  common- 
place or  broad  a  subject  then  as  now.  I  had  hoped,  as  in- 
deed it  was  the  understanding,  that  I  should  make  a  book 
out  of  them,  reducing  the  subject-matter  more  strictly 
to  a  critical  study  of  the  problem  involved  in  the  present 
environment  of  Christianity,  so  different  in  its  effect  from 
any  which  had  preceded.  Rut  the  book  was  never  written, 
owing  to  the  increasing  pressure  of  college  duties.  I  was 
able,  however,  through  the  courtesy  of  Union  Seminary, 
to  repeat  the  lectures,  in  modified  form,  on  the  Earle 
Foundation  at  the  Pacific  Theological  Seminary,  Rerkeley, 
California.  This  was  in  1906. 1  recall  with  peculiar  pleasure 
the  visit  to  Rerkeley  —  the  outward  trip  by  the  Santa  Fe, 
though  we  missed  for  lack  of  time  the  Grand  Canyon,  the 
provision  made  for  Mrs.  Tucker  and  myself  at  Cloyne 
Court,  the  association  with  the  University,  and  especially 
my  intercourse  with  the  faculty  of  the  Seminary.  One  could 
not  ask  for  a  season  of  professional  companionship  char- 
acterized by  a  truer  spirit  of  hospitality,  by  more  sincerity 


37o  MY  GENERATION 

and  freedom  of  thought,  or  by  a  larger  vision  of  Christian 
faith.  The  return  trip  was  in  marked  contrast  with  the 
outward  boimd.  We  left  San  Francisco  for  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia just  in  advance  of  the  earthquake,  having  reached 
Santa  Barbara  when  the  news  of  it  came  to  us.  It  became 
at  once  the  great  question  for  travelers  how  to  secure 
transportation  to  the  East.  We  made  our  exit,  or  as  it 
seemed,  our  escape,  by  the  new  route  then  first  opened 
(and  soon  after  discontinued  for  a  time)  from  Los  Angeles 
through  Salt  Lake  City.  We  had  intended  to  return  by 
the  same  route  by  which  we  came  out,  to  recover  the  side 
trip  to  the  Grand  Canyon  which  we  had  missed,  but  for 
this  we  were  in  no  mood  had  the  way  been  open  to  us. 
There  is  no  experience  so  depressing  to  a  stranger  as  the 
sense  that  he  is  not  only  absolutely  useless,  but  alto- 
gether in  the  way  anywhere  within  the  environment  of  a 
great  local  calamity. 

An  event  of  civic  as  well  as  of  religious  import,  in  which 
I  took  part,  was  the  celebration  in  1897  of  the  fiftieth  an- 
niversary of  the  founding  of  Plymouth  Church,  and  the 
beginning  of  the  work  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher  in  Brook- 
lyn. The  celebration  was  distributed  over  several  days 
with  addresses  by  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott,  Dr.  Bradford  of 
Montclair,  New  Jersey,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  A.  Berry 
of  England.  The  speakers  of  the  closing  evening  were 
Dr.  Gordon  of  Boston,  Washington  Gladden,  and  myself. 
These  various  addresses  were  published  in  book  form 
under  the  title,  "The  New  Puritanism."  An  interesting 
feature  of  the  volume  was  the  introduction  by  Rossiter  W. 
Raymond,  setting  forth  the  origin  of  the  church  and  the 
circumstances  attending  the  call  of  Mr.  Beecher. 

The  semi-public  duties  of  a  college  president  begin  in  his 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  371 

response  to  one  or  more  of  the  many  causes  represented 
in  public  education.  Some  of  these  interested  me,  others 
did  not;  and  those  which  did  not  interest  me  personally 
I  found  it  difficult  to  interest  myself  in  professionally. 
This  had  been  my  weakness  in  my  former  profession.  I 
had  little  liking  for  the  ecclesiastical  and  purely  denom- 
inational side  of  the  ministry,  though  I  fully  recognized 
their  religious  significance.  Necessary  attendance  at  coun- 
cils, conventions,  and  annual  meetings  was  always  a  severe 
duty,  seldom  if  ever  an  inspiration.  The  same  feeling 
persisted  in  the  transfer  to  the  professional  duties  of 
an  educator.  The  technical  and  conventional  did  not 
attract  me.  I  took  little  interest  in  the  science  or  art  of 
pedagogy,  though  I  saw  the  reason  and  necessity  for  such 
interest  on  the  part  of  somebody  in  the  profession.  The 
matters  which  did  interest  me,  most  of  them  greatly,  had 
to  do  with  the  educational  values  of  the  new  subject- 
matter  finding  its  way  into  the  schools  of  every  grade,  the 
new  constituency  of  the  colleges  coming  out  of  the  public 
schools,  the  function  of  the  State  in  education,  —  these 
and  like  matters.  I  find  upon  reference  to  my  notebooks 
or  to  published  addresses,  the  following  subjects  of  dis- 
cussion—  "The  Rights  of  the  Period  of  Education,"  a 
plea  not  only  for  the  requisite  allowance  of  time  for  the 
schools  but  also  for  freedom  to  create  a  spirit,  a  senti- 
ment, an  atmosphere  of  their  own;  "Arrested  Education 
—  How  Recovered";  "The  High  School  the  School  of 
the  Community";  "The  Educational  Function  of  the 
Public  Library";  "What  has  Patriotism  the  Right  to 
demand  of  Education,"  an  address  before  the  Union 
League  Club  of  Chicago  on  Washington's  Birthday, 
1906;  "Modern  Education  capable  of  Idealism,"  an  ad- 


372  MY  GENERATION 

dress  at  President  King's  Inauguration  at  Oberlin;  "The 
Study  of  Contemporary  Greatness,"  an  address  before  the 
officers  and  cadets  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis. 
This  last  address  had  for  its  object  the  endeavor  to  aid 
men  entering  the  service  of  the  country,  in  forming  their 
estimates  of  men  in  public  life  with  whom  they  were  to  be 
concerned.  The  tests  upon  which  I  insisted  as  the  constants 
of  greatness  always  to  be  demanded,  though  not  always 
to  be  expected  in  equal  proportion  in  every  really  great 
man,  were  originality,  authority,  and  beneficence.  There 
are  no  equivalents  for  these  qualities.  Without  these  the 
claim  to  greatness  is  unreal  if  not  untrue. 

Much  of  the  time  of  my  annual  visit  among  the  alumni, 
extending  often  for  a  month,  was  occupied  in  engagements 
at  the  schools  or  at  meetings  of  teachers.  Some  of  the 
schools  of  Cleveland,  Chicago,  Minneapolis,  Omaha,  Den- 
ver, St.  Louis,  became  as  well  known  to  me  as  the  schools 
of  New  England.  The  informality  of  address  which  these 
visits  allowed  was  far  more  quickening  to  me,  and  I  think 
quite  as  useful  to  the  schools  as  the  more  formal  addresses. 
It  allowed  and  meant  the  adaptation  of  subject  to  time 
and  place;  sometimes  it  meant  the  introduction  of  a  chal- 
lenging subject,  which  for  its  own  nature  might  win  a 
hearing.  As  I  recall  the  visitation  of  so  many  public 
schools  attending  my  alumni  trips,  I  am  reminded  of  my 
indebtedness  to  Mr.  H.  H.  Hilton,  of  Chicago,  toward 
the  close  of  my  official  relation  to  the  College  a  trustee, 
whose  wide  acquaintance  with  the  schools  and  schoolmen 
of  the  Middle  West  enabled  me  to  gain  an  increasing 
understanding  of  the  local  situation. 

Naturally  the  most  intimate  of  the  public  relations  into 
which  I  came  as  the  President  of  Dartmouth  was  with  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  373 

State  of  New  Hampshire.  State  and  College  had  passed 
through  singular  vicissitudes  in  their  relation  to  one  an- 
other. The  royal  charter  which  gave  to  the  College  its 
right  and  privileges  in  the  Province  of  New  Hampshire 
could  not  determine  its  future  political  environment.  The 
relations  between  Governor  John  Wentworth  and  Presi- 
dent Wheelock  were  most  intimate,  but  they  were  per- 
sonal or  official,  in  no  sense  political.  Each  was  concerned 
for  the  interests  entrusted  to  him  and  in  the  furtherance 
of  their  respective  interests  they  acted  in  hearty  and 
complete  accord.  With  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution 
and  the  change  from  the  provincial  to  the  colonial  govern- 
ment, the  College  instantly  and  vehemently  threw  in  its 
lot  with  the  cause  of  liberty.  It  was  a  costly  step,  but  taken 
without  fear  or  hesitation.  The  action  of  the  College  was 
not,  it  could  not  have  been,  more  patriotic  than  that  of  the 
State;  but  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  that  is,  accord- 
ing to  the  political  views  of  its  constituency,  it  was  more 
democratic  than  the  State.  The  migration  from  Connecti- 
cut, which  preceded  and  followed  Dr.  Wheelock  and  his 
School  up  the  River,  was  imbued  with  the  political  creed 
of  Hooker,  the  founder  of  the  Connecticut  Colony,  of 
which  the  prime  article  was  the  integrity  of  the  town  as 
the  elementary  political  unit.  It  was  the  basis  of  political 
representation.  The  colonial  state,  with  its  seat  of  govern- 
ment at  Exeter  or  in  some  one  of  the  centers  of  population 
in  the  eastern  or  southern  parts,  based  its  authority  on 
numerical  representation,  ignoring  the  right  of  represen- 
tation by  towns.  Instantly  the  towns  along  the  Connecticut 
were  in  revolt,  and  looked  to  the  college  town  of  Hanover 
for  leadership.  The  college  community  was  not  loath  to 
assume  it,  and  for  six  years  carried  on  the  contest,  now  by 


374  MY  GENERATION 

seeking  to  organize  the  State  of  New  Connecticut  out  of 
the  towns  on  either  side  of  the  river  (the  New  Hampshire 
Grant  claiming  to  include  all  territory  to  the  border  of 
New  York),  and  now  by  joining  with  the  settlers  on  the 
Grant  between  the  river  and  New  York  in  their  effort  to 
organize  the  State  of  Vermont.  The  latter  project  pro- 
ceeded so  far,  that  at  one  time  the  College  put  itself  under 
the  protection  of  the  newly  organized  State  prior  to  its 
admission  to  the  Union.  Until  very  recently,  there  was  a 
small  brick  church  standing  in  the  town  of  Norwich  at  the 
head  of  the  northern  end  of  the  main  street,  in  which  the 
legislature  of  the  State  of  Vermont  held  its  session  in  1785, 
at  which  time  it  voted  a  tract  of  land  to  be  incorporated 
into  the  township  of  Wheelock,  "one  moiety  of  the  said 
premises"  to  be  used  for  the  benefit  of  Moor's  Charity 
School  under  President  Wheelock  or  his  successors,  and 
the  other  for  the  use  of  Dartmouth  College  under  the 
control  of  the  trustees  or  their  successors. 

It  was  in  every  way  to  the  advantage  of  the  College 
that  the  attempt  to  organize  the  State  of  New  Connecticut 
out  of  the  towns  on  the  east  and  west  banks  of  the  river 
failed.  The  College  would  have  been  greatly  circumscribed 
by  the  success  of  the  attempt,  and  a  political  character 
would  have  been  given  to  its  reputation  to  the  detri- 
ment of  its  academic  standing.  It  was  better  politically 
that  the  States  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont  should 
have  their  present  alignment.  The  struggle,  however,  left 
its  impress  upon  each  State  —  upon  Vermont  in  its  sys- 
tem of  representation  based  upon  the  town  as  the  unit, 
and  upon  New  Hampshire  by  making  the  town  the 
irreducible  unit,  at  the  price  of  maintaining  the  largest 
legislative  body  in  the  country. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  375 

The  story  of  this  academic  experiment  in  statecraft  is 
one  of  the  most  interesting,  and  in  many  ways  instructive, 
episodes  in  the  political  history  of  New  England.  Strictly 
speaking,  it  was  no  more  academic  than  legal,  or  in  general 
political.  The  recognized  leaders  —  Judge  Woodward  and 
Judge  Payne,  Colonel  Olcott  and  Joseph  Marsh  —  were 
all  men  of  affairs,  as  were  their  associates  in  the  towns  up 
and  down  the  river.  President  Wheelock  denied  active 
participation  in  the  movement,  but  there  is  little  doubt 
about  his  influence,  and  his  son  John,  then  in  the  twenties, 
was  accorded  a  place  among  the  practical  workers.  The 
revolt  was  the  assertion  of  the  Connecticut  political  idea 
by  men  bred  in  that  political  school.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
perhaps  fittingly  characterized  as  the  college  party,  as 
having  its  center  at  Hanover,  the  college  precinct,  trans- 
formed for  the  time  into  the  township  of  Dresden,  in 
the  expectation  of  becoming  the  capital  of  the  new  State, 
while  the  various  publications  in  support  of  the  movement 
emanated  from  that  center.  In  any  event,  the  popular 
verdict  during  the  struggle  and  after  traced  its  origin  and 
development  to  the  agency  of  the  College.  The  practical 
politicians  were  very  outspoken  in  this  charge.  Ethan  Allen, 
of  the  "Bennington"  or  Western  Vermont  party,  writing 
to  the  representatives  of  the  "Exeter"  or  Eastern  New 
Hampshire  party  with  whom  he  had  joined  hands,  char- 
acterized the  college  party  as  "a  Petulent,  Pettefoging, 
Scribbling  sort  of  Gentry  that  will  keep  any  government 
in  hot  water  till  they  are  thoroughly  brought  under  by 
the  exertions  of  authority."  The  answer  of  the  Exeter 
party,  in  control  of  the  convention  to  form  a  new  constitu- 
tion for  the  State  of  New  Hampshire,  was  the  insertion  of 
the  clause  that  "no  president,  professor,  or  instructor  in 


376  MY  GENERATION 

any  college  should  have  a  seat  in  either  House  of  the  Legis- 
lature or  in  the  Council."  This  clause  remained  in  force 
for  ten  years.  Meanwhile  and  for  some  time  longer,  it 
represented  the  official  and  popular  political  feeling  toward 
the  College.  It  was  twenty  years  after  the  retirement  of 
Governor  Wentworth  (1775)  before  his  seat  as  Trustee 
ex-officio  on  the  Board  of  Trustees  was  occupied  by  any 
Governor,  or  as  then  styled,  President  of  the  State.  In  1795 
Governor  John  Taylor  Gilman  of  Exeter  took  his  seat, 
when,  says  Chase  in  his  History  of  the  College,  "the  full 
restoration  of  official  relations  of  the  State  to  the  College 
were  emphasized  by  the  meeting  in  Hanover  of  the  Legis- 
lature and  the  inauguration  of  Governor  Gilman  in  the 
College  Chapel." 

This  happier  state  of  affairs  continued  nearly  twenty 
years,  till  the  opening  of  the  great  controversy  over  the 
charter  of  the  College,  which  culminated  in  the  appeal  to 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  The  decision  in 
the  case  was  rendered  in  1819,  fifty  years  after  the  found- 
ing of  the  College  and  its  location  within  the  Province  of 
New  Hampshire.  These  fifty  years,  as  has  been  seen,  were 
to  a  far  larger  degree  years  of  contention  than  of  cooper- 
ation or  even  of  agreement.  The  marvel  is  that  after  such 
an  experience  in  the  formative  stage  of  their  existence, 
State  and  College  should  have  accepted  the  final  result  so 
unreservedly,  and  continued  their  relation  on  the  basis  of 
comity  and  respect.  When  I  came  to  the  presidency  of  the 
College  in  1893,  this  relation  had  been  unbroken  for  three 
quarters  of  a  century.  If  there  was  at  the  time  lack  of 
enthusiasm  for  the  College  on  the  part  of  the  State,  it  was 
due  more  than  all  else  to  a  lack  of  enthusiasm  of  the  State 
for  itself.    The  decade  of  the  eighties  was  a  somewhat  de- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  377 

pressed  period  in  respect  to  state  pride  and  enthusiasm. 
The  decade  of  the  war  had  shown  a  retrograde  movement 
in  population,  and  although  there  had  been  a  recovery,  the 
rate  of  growth  had  not  reached  the  normal  standard  of  the 
country  at  large.  It  was  the  period  when  public  attention 
was  called  to  the  decline  of  rural  New  England.  An  aban- 
doned farm  in  the  remote  regions  accessible  to  summer 
tourists,  was  much  more  sensitively  in  evidence  than  the 
newly  constructed  mills  that  lined  the  highways  of  travel. 
The  readjustment  in  the  industries  of  the  State  had  not 
gone  far  enough  to  reassure  the  people  at  large.  And 
to  add  to  the  confusion,  the  politics  of  the  State  had  been 
demoralized  and  embittered  by  a  protracted  railroad  war. 
Returning  to  the  State  at  this  juncture,  I  felt  that  whatever 
influence  I  might  have  from  my  position  should  be  exer- 
cised for  the  advancement  of  the  State  as  well  as  for  the 
College.  I  declared  publicly  that  "if  I  had  not  believed  in 
the  future  of  New  Hampshire,  I  should  not  have  accepted 
the  presidency  of  Dartmouth."  The  first  address  which  I 
gave  on  a  state  occasion,  that  of  the  dedication  of  the 
State  Library  Building  (January  8, 1895),  was  on  the  "Re- 
newal of  Civic  Pride  in  the  Commonwealth"  —  a  revival  as 
essential  as  that  which  had  followed  the  restoration  of  the 
nation,  or  that  which  was  beginning  to  be  manifest  in  the 
change  of  public  feeling  toward  the  municipality.  An  oc- 
casion which  called  for  more  thorough  and  comprehensive 
investigation  into  the  actual  condition  of  the  State  was 
afforded  by  an  invitation  to  address  an  association  made 
up  of  members  of  the  present  and  past  legislatures,  June 
30,  1896.  The  subject  of  the  address  was  "New  Hampshire 
during  the  Period  of  Industrial  Reconstruction."  My 
previous  economic  studies  had  given  me   a   degree  of 


378  MY  GENERATION 

preparation  for  the  treatment  of  this  subject,  and  I  found 
myself  greatly  interested  in  the  application  of  economic 
principles  to  the  problems  which  it  involved.  The  result 
was  a  hearty  and  appreciative  response  not  only  from  those 
to  whom  the  address  was  especially  directed,  but  from 
many  who  read  it  as  it  was  widely  circulated  through  the 
State.  A  most  cheering  word  came  to  me  directly  from 
Attorney-General  A.  E.  Pillsbury  of  Massachusetts  (a  son 
of  New  Hampshire) :  "I  doubt  if  even  you  appreciate  what 
you  have  done  for  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  and  for 
Dartmouth  College.  Your  address  is  the  utterance  of  this 
generation  concerning  the  State."  At  the  request  of  Mr. 
Pillsbury,  the  address  was  repeated  in  substance  before 
the  Sons  of  New  Hampshire  in  Boston. 

The  somewhat  unusual  occasions  about  this  time  for  the 
interchange  of  courtesies  between  College  and  State  were 
helpful  to  the  maintenance  of  the  quickened  relations 
between  them  —  on  the  part  of  the  College,  occasions  like 
the  Webster  Centennial,  and  the  Banquet  to  the  Earl  of 
Dartmouth  following  the  Laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of 
the  New  Dartmouth  Hall,  and  on  the  part  of  the  State, 
occasions  like  the  Presentation  of  Memorial  Tablets  by 
the  State  to  the  U.S.S.  Kearsarge  and  the  U.S.S.  Alabama 
at  Portsmouth,  September  18,  1900.  This  particular  occa- 
sion was  so  full  of  general  as  well  as  local  interest  that  I 
refer  to  it  in  considerable  detail.  At  its  session  in  1899,  the 
Legislature  of  New  Hampshire  passed  the  following  reso- 
lution relative  to  the  new  battleship  to  be  known  as  the 
Kearsarge:  "Whereas  one  of  the  nation's  new  battleships 
under  construction  by  the  Government,  and  now  nearing 
completion,  has  received  the  name  Kearsarge,  Resolved, 
that  in  behalf  of  the  people  of  New  Hampshire,  the  Gov- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  379 

ernor  be  asked  to  appoint  a  committee  of  citizens  of  the 
State  to  procure  and  present  for  the  use  of  the  Kearsarge 
a  worthy  testimonial,  which  shall  bear  with  it  the  affec- 
tionate love  of  the  people  of  New  Hampshire  for  this  noble 
ship  which,  because  of  the  name  it  bears,  must  become  of 
all  the  battleships  New  Hampshire's  special  pride." 

The  Committee  appointed  by  the  Governor  to  carry  out 
the  object  specified  in  the  resolution  added  of  its  own 
motion  the  recognition  of  the  battleship  Alabama,  then 
nearly  completed,  as  the  ship  always  to  be  associated  with 
the  Kearsarge  in  the  retrospect  of  the  war: 

It  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  the  Kearsarge  should  be 
honored  by  a  gift  which  should  worthily  reflect  New  Hamp- 
shire pride  and  New  Hampshire  sentiment.  The  Commission 
could  have  stopped  here,  and  procured  merely  a  worthy  gift 
for  New  Hampshire's  battleship.  But  it  felt  that  if  only  this 
were  done  New  Hampshire  would  have  lost  a  unique  opportunity 
to  perform  a  graceful  act,  an  act  which  should  have  a  national 
as  well  as  a  local  significance.  The  Commission  therefore  asks 
the  people  of  New  Hampshire  to  make  a  presentation  to  the 
Kearsarge  and  to  the  Alabama.  When  the  two  great  battleships, 
Kearsarge  and  Alabama,  are  about  to  enter  the  service  of  a 
united  nation,  can  New  Hampshire  do  a  more  worthy  act  than 
add  to  the  glory  which  surrounds  the  name  Kearsarge  by  making 
it  a  pledge  between  New  Hampshire  and  Alabama  that  they 
and  these  two  noble  ships  are  united  for  the  defense  and  welfare 
of  a  common  country?  The  proposed  gift  to  the  Kearsarge  will 
be  a  large  bronze  bas-relief,  to  be  placed  on  the  forward  turret 
between  the  two  13-inch  guns.  The  gift  for  the  Alabama  will 
probably  be  a  large  design  in  bronze  appropriately  inscribed,  to 
be  placed  on  one  of  the  turrets.  Dr.  Tucker  of  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege has  been  asked  by  his  colleagues  on  the  Commission  to 
prepare  the  inscription. 

In  accordance  with  the  above  request  the  following  in- 
scription was  prepared  for  the  U.S.S.  Kearsarge.  It  was 


380  MY  GENERATION 

placed  upon  a  large  bronze  bas-relief  below  the  two  figures 
with  clasped  hands,  representing  the  reunited  North  and 
South. 

From  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  to  the 

U.S.S.  Kearsarge 

To  Maintain  Justice  Honor  Freedom 

In  the  Service  of  a  Reunited  People 

The  Memorial  to  the  U.S.S.  Alabama  took  the  form  of  a 
large  bronze  tablet  carrying  the  following  inscription: 

The  State  of  New  Hampshire  to  the 

U.S.S.  Alabama 

This  Tablet,  Companion  to  that  on  the 

U.S.S.  Kearsarge,  Placed  Here  by  Courtesy 

of  the  State  of  Alabama  Perpetuates  in 

Enduring  Peace  Names  Once  Joined 

in  Historic  Combat 

At  the  banquet  which  closed  the  day  of  public  presenta- 
tion, an  incident  of  peculiar  significance  was  introduced. 
Addresses  had  been  made  by  the  presiding  officer,  General 
Streeter,  by  Governors  Rollins  of  New  Hampshire  and 
Johnston  of  Alabama,  by  Secretary  Long  of  the  Navy,  by 
Secretary  Gage  of  the  Treasury,  and  by  Admiral  Far- 
quhar,  Commanding  Officer  of  the  North  Atlantic  Squad- 
ron, when  Governor  Rollins  arose  and  presented  to  Gover- 
nor Johnston  two  battle-flags  once  borne  by  Alabama  regi- 
ments, but  since  the  war  in  possession  of  the  State  of  New 
Hampshire.  This  unexpected  incident  greatly  stirred  the 
guests  at  the  banquet.  It  had  been  arranged  that  as  Presi- 
dent of  Dartmouth  I  should  make  the  concluding  speech 
of  the  evening,  in  response  to  the  toast  —  "The  United 
States."  The  hour  was  so  late  when  the  incident  occurred 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  381 

that  the  reporters  had  left,  and  no  report  of  the  speeches 
attending  it  was  given  in  the  daily  papers.  I  give  the 
speech  as  it  was  written  out  later  from  brief  notes,  at  the 
special  request  of  Governor  Rollins: 

Mr.  Toastmaster,  Governor  Rollins  and  Governor  Johnston  — 

The  heart  of  the  nation  has  been  waiting  for  such  an  act  as 
that  which  we  have  just  witnessed,  embodying  as  it  does  so 
completely  the  spirit  of  this  memorable  day.  North  and  South 
alike  have  been  ready  to  break  through  the  restraints  and  re- 
serves which  naturally  follow  upon  a  civil  war,  and  to  reassert 
that  feeling  which  is  deeper  than  the  feelings  engendered  by 
strife.  The  time  has  now  come,  we  cannot  be  mistaken  in  be- 
lieving, to  break  the  silence  of  these  past  years,  generous  and 
healing  though  it  has  been  —  but  not  by  words.  Words  cannot 
restore  what  deeds  have  taken  away.  It  is  the  office  of  the  fit 
and  sincere  act  to  bring  back  the  old  friendship.  I  count  it  the 
honorable  and  timely  distinction  of  the  states  of  New  Hamp- 
shire and  Alabama,  a  distinction  which  will  certainly  have  its 
place  in  history,  that  they  are  able  to  lead  the  way  in  this  really 
significant  interchange  of  sentiment.  Other  states  have  been 
more  conspicuously  related  to  one  another  through  their  earlier 
past,  as  notably  Massachusetts  and  Virginia.  But  the  fortune  of 
the  recent  war,  shall  I  not  say  the  comradeship  of  one  of  its 
greatest  events,  has  given  us  our  opportunity,  and  we  have 
dared  to  take  it.  We  have  dared  to  call  up  the  most  thrilling, 
perhaps  the  most  separating  incident  of  the  war;  we  have  dared 
to  bring  together  names  which  had  thrust  men  farthest  apart; 
we  have  dared  to  evoke  the  memory  of  a  fight  fierce  and  bitter 
unto  death;  and  having  done  this  what  remains  to  be  ignored, 
or  evaded,  or  held  back?  The  restoration  of  these  flags  is  not  a 
charity,  it  is  not  even  a  courtesy.  These  flags  go  back  to  you, 
men  of  Alabama,  by  the  logic  of  the  situation,  and  with  them 
go  our  hearts. 

I  am  asked  to  speak  a  brief  closing  word,  after  this  act,  to  the 
toast  —  "The  United  States" — the  most  significant  name 
among  the  nations,  for  it  is  a  name  which  embodies  a  principle 


382  MY  GENERATION 

and  a  history,  a  name  which  has  thus  far  been  justified  and 
maintained  only  through  perpetual  sacrifice.  The  sentiment  of 
unity,  I  do  not  say  the  principle  but  the  sentiment  of  unity,  is 
the  soul  of  our  national  life.  We  cannot  exist  as  a  nation  without 
a  passion  for  unity,  second  only  if  at  all,  to  the  passion  for  lib- 
erty. No  nation  of  modern  times  has  had  an  inner  life  like  our 
own.  Few  nations  have  had  any  inner  life  compared  with  the 
outer  life  of  conquest  and  empire.  But  from  the  very  beginning 
the  thought  of  the  people  of  this  country  has  been  turned  in- 
ward, and  the  point  of  solicitude,  concession,  and  at  last  struggle, 
has  been  unity.  At  first  it  was  unity  simply  as  a  means  to  an 
end,  the  end  being  freedom  as  expressed  in  independence,  but 
sometimes  it  seemed  as  hard  to  ensure  the  means  as  to  reach 
the  end.  The  struggle  leading  up  to  the  Revolution,  and  through 
it,  was  the  struggle  for  unity  quite  as  much  as  for  liberty.  I 
marvel  more  and  more  at  the  enduring  patience,  the  constant 
forbearance,  the  unfailing  sacrifices  which  wrought  their  sure 
result  in  our  national  independence.  Liberty  was  won  we  say 
at  Bunker  Hill,  at  Trenton,  at  Yorktown:  yes,  but  more  clearly 
in  the  silent  determination  of  consenting  hearts,  in  the  generous 
concessions  of  statesmen  and  soldiers,  in  the  mutual  support  of 
the  colonies,  in  the  unbroken  will  of  a  people  set  on  freedom. 
Liberty  was  won  when  Washington  stood  under  the  Cambridge 
Elm  and  without  dissent  took  command  of  the  meagre  but 
united  band  of  patriots  from  North  and  South.  Victory  rested 
in  that  calm,  steadfast,  compelling  nature.  For  seven  years  it 
waited,  but  it  was  as  sure  as  was  his  life,  the  central  and  com- 
manding figure  among  men  who  knew  no  fear,  who  would  not 
yield  to  dissensions,  who  would  be  one  to  the  end. 

And  yet  when  the  immediate  end  came,  and  the  thirteen  strug- 
gling colonies  became  the  United  States  of  America,  there  began 
to  be  felt  at  once  that  great  concern  as  to  how  the  Union  might 
be  saved.  It  was  not  an  unwarranted  concern.  It  affected  every 
interest  of  the  nation.  There  was  not  a  debate  in  Congress,  how- 
ever remote  the  subject  might  be  —  the  tariff,  acquisition  of 
territory,  education  —  which  was  not  sensitive  to  the  danger 
which  threatened  the  Union.  Before  a  generation  had  passed 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  383 

the  situation  became  tense.  Then  concession  followed  concession; 
compromise  followed  compromise.  The  effort  to  preserve  the 
Union  became  pathetic.  As  the  years  went  on,  pathos  deepened 
into  tragedy.  Public  careers,  the  careers  of  many  of  our  greatest 
statesmen,  were  sacrificed.  Personal  friendships  were  sundered. 
Gradually  we  became  to  outward  appearance  thoroughly  section- 
alized.  At  last  the  national  tragedy  came  upon  us.  A  generation 
went  down  into  suffering  and  sorrow.  To  what  end?  For  free- 
dom? Yes,  again  for  freedom,  and  in  many  ways  through  a  nobler 
and  more  unselfish  struggle  than  the  first.  I  think  that  none  of 
us  would  deny  that  the  Civil  War  marvelously  enlarged  the  idea 
of  liberty,  and  refined  its  quality.  But  back  in  all  of  our  hearts 
was  the  conviction  that  the  nation  must  live.  We  could  not 
believe  that  it  was  in  the  plan  of  God,  we  would  not  believe  that 
it  was  really  in  the  heart  of  man,  that  the  nation  should  die, 
that  the  nation  should  cease  to  be  the  United  States.  The  in- 
eradicable, the  indestructible  passion  for  unity  was  in  all 
whether  we  fought  for  it  or  against  it. 

And  now  that  the  struggle  to  gain  the  Union  and  to  save  it 
is  over,  who  does  not  rejoice  in  the  established  integrity  of  the 
nation?  Who  does  not  feel  the  new  sense  of  power,  the  new  sense 
of  security,  the  new  sense  of  freedom?  "  We  the  people"  are  more 
than  ever  "we  the  States."  WTe  are  no  longer  afraid  to  claim  or 
to  admit  our  mutual  rights.  Every  State  born  out  of  the  original 
compact,  every  State  created  out  of  acquired  territory,  every 
State  now  in  the  making,  knows  that  it  has  the  assurance  of  its 
safety  and  the  promise  of  its  greatness  in  the  fact  that  it  is  an  in- 
tegral part  of  the  United  States.  We  may  not  minimize  the  perils 
which  beset  the  future  of  the  nation.  No  nation  can  guarantee 
its  own  future.  But  of  the  vital  forces  which  are  to  conserve  our 
national  life  we  have  put  the  two  greatest  to  the  proof.  We  have 
the  right  to  believe  that  these  will  abide  in  their  saving  strength. 
When  the  prospect  was  far  otherwise  than  it  is  to-day,  when  the 
perils  to  the  Union  were  more  evident  than  its  safety,  one  man 
among  us,  native  to  these  hills,  who  walked  the  streets  of  the  city 
where  we  are  met,  uttered  in  the  national  Congress  the  memor- 
able word  of  hope.  Surely  we  cannot  doubt  the  perpetuity  of  a 


384  MY  GENERATION 

nation  which  we  have  seen  founded  and  refounded  in  "  liberty 
and  union."  We  of  all  men  can  least  deny  ourselves  the  hope 
that  "  liberty  and  union,"  which  are  ours  by  the  rights  of  in- 
heritance and  by  the  rights  of  sacrifice,  will  abide  with  us  accord- 
ing to  the  prophetic  vision,  "  one  and  inseparable." 

Of  a  very  different  character  was  the  call  which  came 
later  to  join  with  certain  other  citizens  in  a  strenuous  en- 
deavor to  relieve  the  State  from  a  humiliating  condition, 
in  which  it  had  been  placed  unwittingly  through  an  un- 
considered action  of  the  Legislature  of  1905-06.  In  the 
closing  days  of  its  session  a  bill  was  introduced  and  rapidly 
passed  by  both  houses  chartering  the  New  England  Breed- 
ers' Club,  for  the  avowed  purpose  "of  raising,  importing, 
and  improving  the  breed  of  horses  and  other  domestic 
animals  in  the  State  of  New  Hampshire."  This  action  was 
taken  on  March  10,  1905.  It  was  some  months  before 
the  deception  practiced  in  the  introduction  and  putting 
through  of  the  bill  granting  the  charter  was  brought  out, 
and  then  more  in  the  way  of  suspicion  and  questioning 
than  of  proven  imposition.  It  seemed  impossible  that  a 
great  gambling  institution  could  have  been  set  up  in  the 
State  under  the  simple  guise  of  a  club  chartered  to  improve 
the  stock  farms  of  New  Hampshire,  that  reputable  men 
should  have  lent  their  influence  in  its  favor  as  a  benefit  to 
the  State,  and  that  the  Legislature  should  have  opened 
the  doors  of  the  State  to  its  entrance,  if  it  was  not  what  it 
purported  to  be.  This  deception  was  supported  by  the  al- 
most superfluous  clause  of  the  bill  providing  against  gam- 
bling or  betting  on  the  races,  which  were  to  be  a  part  of 
the  process  of  improving  the  breed  of  horses.  The  immedi- 
ate success  of  the  manipulators  of  the  movement  both 
without  and  within  the  State  was  a  tribute  to  their  evil 
skill  in  such  matters. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  385 

The  Reverend  Thomas  Chalmers  of  Manchester  was 
the  first  man  to  call  public  attention  to  the  public  danger. 
In  an  address  before  a  religious  convention  held  at  Con- 
cord on  the  26th  of  October  he  exposed  the  scheme,  as  it 
appeared  to  him,  of  foisting  a  great  gambling  concern  in 
perpetuity  upon  the  State,  and  asked  that  a  committee  be 
appointed  for  further  investigation.  The  Convention  re- 
sponded promptly  to  his  appeal,  by  nominating  a  com- 
mittee entrusted  with  the  business  of  appointing  in  its 
name  a  committee  of  representative  citizens  to  carry  out 
the  will  of  the  Convention.  This  Committee  was  secured, 
and  was  known  as  "The  Committee  of  Twelve"  appointed 
"to  investigate  the  facts  relating  to  the  organization, 
methods  and  purposes  of  the  so-called  New  England  Breed- 
ers' Club,"  with  the  further  instruction  "to  take  such 
measures  to  arouse  the  moral  forces  of  the  State  as  the 
facts  shall  warrant."  This  Committee  when  secured  or- 
ganized by  choosing  Dr.  Chalmers  as  Chairman,  and  pro- 
ceeding at  once  to  its  business.  There  were  two  difficulties 
to  be  overcome  before  it  could  act  freely  and  effectively. 
One  was  the  danger  of  becoming  complicated  with  external 
reform  organizations  desirous  of  exploiting  in  a  general 
way  the  New  Hampshire  situation.  To  those  who  knew  the 
independent  spirit  of  the  State,  as  later  reformers  from 
without  or  not  sufficiently  in  the  State  had  occasion  to 
test  it,  it  appeared  necessary  that  the  attempted  reform 
should  be  made  a  state  affair;  that  it  should  be  made  ap- 
parent that  the  State  was  capable  of  dealing  in  its  own 
way  with  impostors  when  once  discovered.  The  other  diffi- 
culty was  for  the  Committee  to  limit  itself  strictly  to  its 
instructions.  It  was  an  inviting  field  of  inquiry  to  enter 
upon,  lying  at  its  very  doors  —  How  did  the  New  England 


386  MY  GENERATION 

Breeders'  Club  get  its  charter;  who  was  to  blame;  what 
were  the  methods  employed?  —  but  that  was  not  the 
business  of  this  Committee.  With  some  reluctance  on  the 
part  of  a  few  of  the  Committee,  but  by  an  admirable  self- 
restraint  on  the  part  of  those  who  would  have  liked  to  enter 
into  the  investigation  suggested,  the  whole  Committee 
gave  itself  up  to  the  one  object  of  making  perfectly  clear 
to  the  public  just  what  the  New  England  Breeders'  Club 
was,  and  upon  the  basis  of  ascertained  facts  to  take  such 
measures  as  might  lead  as  quickly  as  possible  to  ridding 
the  State  of  the  danger  of  its  presence.  A  sub-committee 
was  appointed  to  raise  an  investigating  fund,  and  a  sub- 
committee consisting  of  Edward  C.  Niles,  Esq.  of  Con- 
cord, and  myself,  to  carry  out  the  investigation  and  to 
present  the  case  when  prepared  to  the  Governor  and  Coun- 
cil. The  report  of  this  sub-committee,  made  in  behalf  of 
the  Committee  at  large,  took  up  in  careful  detail  the  proofs 
of  the  deception  involved  in  the  charter  of  the  New  Eng- 
land Breeders'  Club,  by  showing  the  precise  results  of  the 
Percy-Gray  Bill  in  New  York,  of  which  the  bill  authorizing 
the  Breeders'  Club  was  practically  a  duplicate,  especially 
as  seen  in  the  utterly  untrustworthy  character  of  the 
clauses  forbidding  betting  and  gambling,  and  by  adduc- 
ing carefully  collated  testimony,  to  show  the  actual  work- 
ing of  race-tracks  in  various  States  run  by  the  Association 
behind  the  Breeders'  Club.  It  then  discussed  the  ques- 
tion of  the  sufficiency  of  the  laws  of  New  Hampshire  on 
betting  and  gambling  to  deal  with  the  Club  if  it  were 
allowed  to  operate  in  the  State.  The  report  closed  with 
the  direct  petition  to  the  Governor  and  Council: 

Under  the  circumstances,  as  the  only  means  of  clearing  up  the 
situation,  we  respectfully  ask  that  you  exercise  your  constitu- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  387 

tional  right  of  requesting  the  Supreme  Court  of  this  State  to 
submit  to  you  their  opinion  upon  the  important  points  of  law  in 
question,  particularly  as  to  the  adequacy  of  our  existing  laws  to 
suppress  the  varied  forms  of  race-track  betting,  the  effect  of  the 
provisions  of  the  charter  of  the  New  England  Breeders'  Club 
exempting  that  organization  from  the  operation  of  those  laws, 
the  constitutionality  of  those  provisions,  the  power  of  the  Legis- 
lature to  amend  or  repeal  that  charter,  and  any  other  matters 
regarding  which  you  feel  that  their  advice  would  be  of  value  to 
you.  With  that  information,  certainty  will  take  the  place  of 
conjecture,  and  you  will  be  able  intelligently  and  with  confidence 
to  determine  your  duty  in  the  premises. 

The  manifest  alternative  to  the  denial  of  this  petition, 
or  to  such  an  opinion  from  the  Supreme  Court  as  would 
leave  the  essential  question  still  in  doubt,  would  have  been 
the  demand  for  the  recall  of  the  Legislature  to  repeal  the 
charter  and  to  enact  sufficient  laws  for  the  protection  of 
the  State  against  all  like  attempts  to  introduce  race-track 
gambling  or  betting.  There  was  great  reluctance  to  con- 
sider the  reconvening  of  the  Legislature.  It  involved  many 
unpleasant  liabilities.  Moreover,  it  was  an  expensive  pro- 
cedure. An  opinion  from  the  court  was  in  every  way  most 
desirable,  if  a  clear,  decisive,  and  sufficiently  drastic  opin- 
ion could  be  secured.  The  Governor  and  Council  took  im- 
mediate action  requiring  the  opinion  of  the  court,  and  the 
opinion,  when  rendered,  met  every  condition  necessary  to 
give  security  to  the  State  against  any  possible  results  of 
the  operation  of  the  Salem  race-track.  The  track  was  al- 
ready in  process  of  construction  at  an  immense  cost.  The 
site  of  the  track  at  a  border  town  on  the  Massachusetts 
line  had  been  chosen  for  easy  access  from  Boston  and  the 
cities  of  eastern  Massachusetts,  as  well  as  from  the  manu- 
facturing cities  of  the  Merrimack  valley. 


388  MY  GENERATION 

While  the  proceedings  for  the  protection  of  the  State 
were  going  on,  and  after  the  announcement  of  the  opinion 
of  the  court,  the  New  England  Breeders'  Club  maintained 
a  supercilious  and  indifferent  attitude,  after  the  New  York 
habit.  The  race-track  was  completed  and  the  opening  of 
the  spring  season  was  announced.  On  the  first  day  books 
were  opened  and  bets  made  as  if  nothing  had  been  done. 
On  the  second  day  and  thereafter  all  gambling  ceased 
through  the  interference  of  the  state  authorities.  The  sea- 
son went  on  without  the  usual  accompaniment,  but  it  was 
an  empty  farce.  The  fall  season  was  opened,  and  carried  on 
under  like  conditions  and  with  like  results.  Then  the  enter- 
prise was  abandoned  at  an  immense  financial  loss.  The 
Salem  race-track  was  as  desolate  as  an  abandoned  farm. 
Through  the  aroused  moral  sentiment  of  the  State,  the 
prompt  and  adequate  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the 
vigorous  and  determined  action  of  the  Governor,  the  New 
York  experiment  of  ignoring  the  moral  sentiment  of  a 
State  and  defying  its  authority  in  the  interest  of  race- 
track gambling  had  proved  a  monumental  failure  in  New 
Hampshire.1 

This  active  participation  on  my  part  in  a  matter  of  civic 
reform  so  closely  bordering  on  politics,  led  some  persons  to 
assume  that  it  meant  a  willingness  to  go  further,  and  my 
name  began  to  be  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  gov- 
ernorship. The  first  time,  however,  the  suggestion  came 

1  For  further  details  see  the  Petition  of  the  Sub-Committee  of  the  Committee  of 
Twelve  to  the  Governor  and  Council  of  the  State  of  New  Hampshire,  —  a  pamphlet 
of  thirty-two  pages;  the  opinion  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  answer  to  the  order  of 
the  Governor  for  a  ruling  in  the  case,  reported  in  the  daily  papers  of  the  State 
under  date  of  March  14,  1906;  also  an  address  at  a  mass  meeting  of  the  citizens 
of  Manchester,  January  14, 1906,  on  tne  Repeal  of  the  Charter  of  the  New  Eng- 
land Breeders'  Club,  reported  in  the  papers  of  the  next  day,  published  in  "  Public- 
Mindedness,"  pp.  177-88. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  389 

out  into  any  publicity  I  quickly  suppressed  it.  I  had  al- 
ready defined  my  position  in  regard  to  politics,  as  may  be 
seen  from  the  following  clipping,  taken  from  a  Boston  paper 
discussing  the  make-up  of  the  delegation  from  New  Hamp- 
shire to  the  National  Republican  Convention  in  1900  at 
Philadelphia : 

Concord,  N.H.,  Mar.  26.  —  The  name  of  Pres.  Tucker  of 
Dartmouth  has  been  prominently  mentioned  in  connection  with 
the  selection  of  delegates  at  large  from  this  state  to  the  republi- 
can national  convention  in  Philadelphia. 

Dr.  Tucker  puts  a  quietus  on  the  movement  in  this  letter  to 
one  of  his  trustees,  who  is  also  a  prominent  member  of  the  repub- 
lican party  in  New  Hampshire : 

"I  have  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  circumstances  or  rea- 
sons which  led  to  the  use  of  my  name  in  connection  with  the 
republican  national  convention.  But  if  you  are  in  a  way  to  say 
anything  to  those  concerned  in  it,  I  think  that  you  must  make 
it  clear  that  I  am  not  in  politics. 

"One  must  be  in  politics  in  a  responsible  or  an  irresponsible 
way.  For  the  latter  kind  of  political  dabbling,  I  have  no  respect 
whatever.  And  for  responsible  politics  I  have  no  time  apart  from 
the  ordinary  duties  of  a  citizen. 

"I  remember  having  once  said  to  you  that  I  believed  thor- 
oughly in  practical  politics  as  an  open  field  to-day  for  men  of 
principle  and  capacity.  I  say  this  to  college  men  and  urge  them 
to  consider  it  in  their  ambitions. 

"But  I  think  that  the  plain  condition  of  entering  politics  in 
any  public  way  is  that  a  man  must  be  able  to  know  all  that  is 
going  on,  so  that  he  may  know  what  to  say,  where  to  strike,  and 
where  not  to  strike.  Unless  a  man  has  such  knowledge  as  this 
his  influence  counts  for  nothing. 

"Certainly  I  have  no  time  for  such  a  venture.  The  interests  of 
the  College  are  not  only  first,  but  for  all  practical  uses  prohibi- 
tive so  far  as  other  interests  of  a  public  nature  are  concerned, 
which  require  discrimination  and  public  statement. 


39o  MY  GENERATION 

"I  think  that  this  makes  my  position  so  clear  that  it  is  not 
necessary  for  me  to  mention  any  incidental  matters  in  detail. 
When  one  passes  into  secondary  reasons,  there  may  be  those  for 
or  against  any  such  action  which  might  be  considered,  but  it  is 
not  necessary  to  take  them  up. 

"I  will  thank  you  very  much,  if  you  are  in  a  way  to  do  so,  to 
see  that  my  name  does  not  come  before  the  convention,  and  if 
the  suggestion  is  really  under  way,  that  my  name  is  withdrawn." 

Perhaps  this  letter  to  Mr.  Streeter  needs  to  be  supple- 
mented by  my  views  on  politics  as  a  profession,  according 
to  the  reference  in  the  letter  to  my  advice  to  college  men. 
I  quote  from  a  Rollins  Chapel  talk  on  the  "Distribution  of 
Personal  Power  " :  * 

Have  we  gone  to  the  root  of  the  matter  in  placing  our  reliance 
upon  reform  and  in  training  reformers?  Why  not  recognize  poli- 
tics as  a  business,  as  a  profession?  Why  not  train  men  to  do  the 
business  right  in  the  first  instance?  Why  not  start  in  with  the 
idea  of  making  a  good  politician  instead  of  a  reformer?  Why  al- 
low so  noble  a  science  as  politics  to  be  broken  up  and  to  fall  in 
pieces  between  the  "statesman"  and  the  "politician"?  If  the 
real  power,  delegated  power,  lies  in  party,  then  put  your  man, 
your  whole  man,  in  the  seat  of  power.  If  that  is  the  seat  of 
authority,  make  it  a  place,  if  not  the  place  of  honor.  But,  you 
say  to  me,  do  you  mean  just  this?  Would  you  advise  us  to  go 
into  practical  politics  as  you  would  advise  us  to  go  into  business 
or  the  professions?  That  is  just  what  I  want  to  say.  I  can  see  no 
more  honorable  or  inviting  opportunity  for  a  firm  and  patient 
ambition  than  municipal,  or  under  certain  conditions,  national 
politics.  The  apprenticeship  is  long.  Temptations  are  not  lacking. 
But  the  way  is  open.  Difficulties  are  not  insurmountable.  If  a 
good  man  gives  the  same  attention  to  business  that  a  bad  man 
gives,  he  is  more  likely  to  succeed.  The  only  drawback  to  a  noble 
success  in  American  politics  is  the  unwillingness  of  the  people  to 
acknowledge  and  rightly  estimate  the  fact,  that  politics  repre- 
1  Personal  Power,  pp.  94-96. 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  391 

sents  delegated  power,  that  it  is  too  large  a  thing  to  be  possessed 
through  the  inroads  of  personal  enthusiasm.  Politics  is  a  territory 
to  be  occupied,  where  men  may  make  their  habitation,  and  live 
honestly,  and  be  held  in  honor  by  their  fellow  men.  The  scholar 
may  go  into  politics,  if  he  will,  but  let  him  go  there  to  gain  a 
residence.  Let  him  go  to  learn  as  well  as  to  teach.  Let  him  keep 
his  faith  in  men,  but  let  him  be  patient  with  them.  Let  him  ac- 
cept honor  and  rejoice  in  it,  but  let  him  rejoice  most  in  the  serv- 
ice he  can  render.  Let  him  stand  to  his  task,  as  men  stand  to 
whom  are  intrusted  the  honor  and  safety  of  the  nation,  that 
other  men  may  do  their  work  securely  and  in  peace. 

But  while  emphasizing,  as  I  always  did,  the  practicabil- 
ity of  politics  as  a  profession  having  for  its  essential  end 
the  public  good,  I  tried  to  make  it  clear  that  there  was  a 
vast  unoccupied  field  of  public  service  within  the  limits 
of  the  common  citizenship.  In  the  preface  to  "Public- 
Mindedness,"  which  had  for  its  sub-title,  "An  Aspect  of 
Citizenship  considered  in  Various  Addresses  given  while 
President  of  Dartmouth  College,"  I  set  forth  the  present 
lack  of  vision  as  well  as  of  duty  in  regard  to  citizen- 
ship. The  accepted  definition  of  a  citizen  is  that  of  "a  per- 
son who  enjoys  the  privileges  of  a  city  or  a  state."  Citizen- 
ship is  the  "status"  of  a  person  enjoying  these  privileges. 
There  is  as  yet  no  sufficient  recognition,  in  idea  or  in  fact, 
of  the  quality  of  public-mindedness  as  inherent  in  citizen- 
ship. If  we  wish  to  emphasize  this  quality  we  are  still 
obliged  to  speak  of  "good"  citizenship.  The  title  of  the 
present  book  is  a  reminder  of  this  deficiency.  It  implies  that 
the  discrimination  may  fairly  be  made  between  citizens 
who  use  their  citizenship  to  guarantee  their  private  inter- 
ests, and  citizens  who  also  use  their  citizenship  with  su- 
preme regard  to  the  public  good.  The  title  of  the  first  ad- 
dress reproduced  in  the  book,  originally  given  in  Carnegie 


392  MY  GENERATION 

Hall,  November  17,  1905,  was  "Good  Citizenship  depend- 
ent upon  Great  Citizens";  the  title  of  the  second,  origi- 
nally given  in  Tremont  Temple,  May  25,  1906,  "The 
Sacredness  of  Citizenship." 

The  public  relations  of  a  college  president  may  become 
to  him  a  kind  of  avocation.  Literally,  an  avocation  is  a 
calling  away  for  a  time  from  one's  vocation  —  not  a  neg- 
lect of  it  or  an  interference  with  it,  for  then  it  would  defeat 
its  own  end  as  a  diversion  or  relief.  Travel  becomes  such 
an  avocation  even  when  undertaken  primarily,  as  it  usu- 
ally is,  on  official  or  semi-official  business.  It  changes  most 
quickly  the  routine,  the  environment,  the  atmosphere  of 
the  daily  work.  Incidentally,  it  offers  special  facilities  for 
uninterrupted  work.  The  parlor  car  on  a  short  trip  or  a 
sleeper  on  some  long  journey  is  a  better  literary  workshop 
than  the  office.  I  recall  with  delight  the  compartment  of  a 
corridor  car  on  the  Santa  Fe  road  which  gave  me  the  pro- 
tection of  four  days  of  uninterrupted  writing  from  Chicago 
to  San  Francisco.  But  the  avocation  of  travel  offers  its 
chief  relief  in  the  change  it  brings  about  so  naturally  from 
the  executive  to  the  social  side  of  the  profession.  I  do  not 
refer  to  formal  social  functions  which  may  be  very  solemn 
and  very7  tedious,  but  to  those  more  personal  associations 
through  which  one  widens  his  knowledge  of  men  of  his  own 
and  of  other  callings,  and  enters  more  freely  into  the  com- 
radeship to  which  this  larger  acquaintance  with  men  and 
their  varied  interests  opens  the  way.  I  count  intelligent 
and  well-directed  travel  a  vocational  and  an  avocation al 
asset  of  a  college  president.  Whatever  value  it  may  rep- 
resent to  him  personally  may  usually  be  credited  in  still 
larger  degree  to  the  college. 

I  think  that  I  should  extend  this  valuation  of  travel  be- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  393 

yond  the  range  of  the  constituency  of  the  college  and  even 
beyond  the  country.  It  almost  goes  without  saying  that  a 
college  president  ought  to  know  the  local  sources  from 
which  the  college  draws  its  men,  and  that  he  ought  to 
know  as  far  as  possible  those  parts  of  the  country  into 
which  the  college  pours  its  alumni.  Such  knowledge  on  his 
part  is  the  only  safeguard  against  provincialism,  the  un- 
pardonable sin  in  a  college  president  in  so  far  as  he  as- 
sumes to  be  a  man  of  affairs.  As  a  scholar  the  escape  from 
provincialism  is  far  easier.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand how  a  scholar,  if  he  be  sincere  and  courageous,  can 
fall  into  this  danger.  The  gates  of  knowledge  all  swing  out- 
ward. But  even  within  the  range  of  the  broadest  scholar- 
ship there  is  need  of  an  avocation  which  may  help  to  make 
the  vocation  more  real,  to  give  it  contact  with  things  most 
human,  to  put  it  into  the  currents  of  the  world.  Of  course 
this  effect  can  be  realized  only  through  the  experiences 
of  the  man  himself,  and  of  these  experiences  one  is  the  re- 
sult, as  I  have  been  urging,  of  well-directed  and  intelligent 
travel.  As  I  am  writing  these  lines,  the  news  has  just  come 
of  the  surrender  of  Constantinople  to  the  Allies.  Ever  since 
the  War  has  assumed  its  world  proportions,  I  have  felt  that 
wherever  the  military  decision  might  be  made,  the  political 
decision  must  be  made  there,  where  alone  the  whole  world 
was  within  reach.  Many  students  of  history  and  of  current 
events  have  expressed  this  view.  Such  had  been  my  own 
view  from  the  limited  study  I  had  been  able  to  give  to  the 
problems  of  the  near  East.  But  I  date  my  impression  of 
the  meaning  of  the  possession  of  Constantinople  in  the 
struggle  for  empire  or  in  the  struggle  for  international 
peace,  to  the  sensation  new,  strange,  and  lasting  which 
came  upon  me  as  I  crossed  for  the  first  time  the  Galata 


394  MY  GENERATION 

Bridge — here,  I  said  to  myself,  is  the  meeting-place  of  the 
races,  here  it  is  still  East  and  West. 

VII 

Tvx)  Years  of  Crippled  Leadership 

In  his  more  than  Emersonian  essay  on  "Work  and  Play," 
Horace  Bushnell  develops  the  theory  that  play  is  not  the 
antithesis  of  work,  and  is  therefore  not  to  be  defined  in 
terms  of  sport,  or  recreation,  or  rest,  but  that  it  is  rather 
the  normal  expression  of  work  at  its  best,  a  state  in  which 
one  reaches  the  highest  degree  of  enjoyment.  "In  short," 
he  says,  "  we  are  to  conceive  that  the  highest  and  complete 
state  of  man,  that  which  his  nature  endeavors  after  and 
in  which  only  it  fulfills  its  sublime  instinct,  is  the  state  of 
play."  Dr.  Bushnell's  philosophy  of  work  and  play  touches 
the  vexed  question  of  the  relief  of  physical  and  mental 
strain.  One  theory  finds  the  necessary  and  apparently 
sufficient  relief  in  the  reduction  of  the  hours  of  labor  — 
the  theory  of  industrialism.  To  what  extent  this  relief, 
when  it  shall  be  fully  brought  about  in  the  manual  occu- 
pations, will  prove  to  be  satisfying,  must  depend  on  the 
use  of  the  leisure  thus  secured.  For  the  theory  leaves 
out  of  account  the  relief  which  lies  in  one's  interest  in  his 
work.  It  makes  work  altogether  work  with  no  play  in  it. 
All  the  play  element  in  life  must  be  found  outside  and 
apart  from  work.  The  other  theory  emphasizes  in  different 
ways  the  Bushnell  conception  of  "work  and  play."  It  is 
the  only  possible  theory  which  can  be  applied  to  profes- 
sional life,  and  to  those  callings  in  which  the  wear  and 
tear  lies  in  the  constant  pressure  of  responsibility.  The 
principle  of  an  eight-hour  day  has  no  application  to  the 
professions  except  in  a  superficial  way  to  teaching.  In  the 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  395 

professions  a  man  must  be  a  law  unto  himself  in  his  use  of 
time,  the  governing  factor  being  his  temperament  or  the 
specific  nature  of  his  work,  like  that  of  the  doctor.  The 
great  distinction  as  it  now  exists  under  the  reign  of  indus- 
trialism between  the  manual  laborer  and  the  professional 
worker  is  the  lack  of  interest,  certainly  of  relieving  interest 
in  his  work  on  the  part  of  the  former,  and  the  excess  of 
interest  on  the  part  of  the  latter,  an  excess  which  may  de- 
feat its  own  end.  In  his  case  the  play  of  the  work  may 
simply  intensify  it,  passing  altogether  beyond  the  bounds 
of  relief. 

I  confess  to  having  adopted  Dr.  Bushnell's  theory  of  the 
play  element  in  work  quite  unconsciously,  but  when  I 
began  to  consider  in  a  practical  way  the  question  of  work 
and  rest,  I  found  that  the  theory  had  become  a  governing 
idea.  I  had  occasion  at  times  to  discuss  the  matter  with 
our  family  physician,  Dr.  William  T.  Smith,  Dean  of  the 
Medical  School,  who  took  exception  to  my  theory  and 
still  more  to  my  practices.  Dr.  Smith  was  a  man  of  great 
sanity  of  judgment,  which  at  this  particular  point  had  been 
confirmed  by  his  own  experience.  His  early  professional 
life  had  been  arrested  by  a  nervous  disability  from  which 
he  had  slowly  recovered.  It  is  but  fair  to  him  to  say  that 
he  gave  me  frequent  cautions,  and  endeavored  to  moder- 
ate my  working  pace,  but  my  natural  temperament  and 
the  exigencies  of  the  day  often  led  me  to  override  his  ad- 
vice. I  counted  also  very  much  upon  my  fondness  for  out- 
of-door  life  and  so  long  as  possible  upon  out-of-door  sport. 
When  tennis  became  too  violent  an  exercise,  I  tried  golf, 
but  golf  was  too  manifestly  an  old  man's  game  when  ap- 
proached from  age,  and  therefore  no  game  at  all  —  only  a 
certain  "  mode  of  motion,"  or  at  best  a  gamble  with  nature. 


396  MY  GENERATION 

I  did  not,  however,  neglect  the  ordinary  reliefs  of  the  sum- 
mer vacation,  especially  after  the  work  of  reconstruction 
was  well  under  way.  In  the  summer  of  1902  I  bought  a 
cottage  on  the  river  at  York  Harbor.  This  was  next  below 
the  old  Sayward  house,  the  original  home  of  Judge  Say- 
ward,  Mrs.  Tucker's  great-great-grandfather.  This  an- 
cestral interest,  takeD  in  connection  with  the  beauty  of  the 
spot,  had  already  led  Mrs.  Tucker's  sisters  to  turn  to  York 
Harbor  for  their  summer  home  —  Mrs.  George  I.  Rock- 
wood  and  Mrs.  Leonard  Wheeler  of  Worcester,  and  Miss 
Cheever  of  Smith  College.  The  early  associations  of  the 
family  with  colonial  history  added  greatly  to  the  interest 
of  our  summer  sojourns.  The  deciphering  of  Judge  Say- 
ward's  diary,  extending  over  thirty  years  and  covering  the 
whole  period  of  the  Revolutionary  War  and  the  subse- 
quent constitutional  era,  gave  us  many  entertaining  eve- 
nings, owing  to  the  personal  idiosyncrasies  of  the  author 
and  the  glimpses  into  the  local  history  of  the  Revolution- 
ary times.  Among  the  summer  residents  with  whom  we 
formed  most  pleasant  acquaintance  were  Mrs.  Pratt  and 
Mrs.  Bell,  daughters  of  Rufus  Choate,  both  remarkable 
conversationalists.  With  Mr.  Howells  as  guest  at  their 
table,  the  flow  of  wit  was  never  interrupted,  but  one  sel- 
dom saw  such  unconscious  recognition  of  mutual  rights  in 
conversation. 

I  had  reminders  beyond  the  cautions  of  my  physician 
of  lessening  powers  of  endurance,  but  I  still  relied  upon 
my  power  of  quick  recuperation  and  kept  at  work,  as  it 
proved,  too  near  the  breaking-point.  The  break  came  sud- 
denly, anticipating  by  two  years  the  time  upon  which  I 
had  calculated  for  a  safe  retirement. 

Near  the  close  of  the  winter  of  1907,  upon  my  return 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  397 

from  an  extended  and  arduous  trip  among  the  alumni,  I 
suffered  from  an  undefined  attack  which  developed  into  a 
severe  and  protracted  illness.  The  unusual  feature  of  this 
illness  was  my  inability  to  respond  to  the  ordinary  treat- 
ment for  a  sickness  of  like  symptoms.  My  power  of  recup- 
eration which  till  now  had  not  failed  me  was  at  a  low  ebb. 
And  yet  it  was  not,  according  to  the  diagnosis  of  the  at- 
tending physicians,  nervous  prostration.  Their  final  diag- 
nosis traced  the  cause  to  a  subtle  but  serious  impairment 
of  the  heart,  and  their  advice  was  to  the  effect  that  I  must 
give  over  the  hope  of  further  active  service  of  any  essential 
value  to  the  College.  Of  course  this  meant  my  resignation. 
As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  understand  the  real  significance 
of  their  decision  I  dictated  the  following  confidential  letter 
to  the  Trustees.  The  letter  was  sent  to  each  individual 
member  of  the  Board.  I  was  anxious  that  the  decision 
which  I  had  had  time  to  accept  as  a  finality,  should  be  given 
time  to  reach  with  them  a  like  result  before  it  should  be 
given  to  the  public.  I  also  had  the  hope  that  they  might  be 
able  to  hold  the  matter  in  hand  until  they  could  at  least 
make  progress  in  the  selection  of  my  successor  —  possibly 
to  announce  his  election  in  connection  with  my  resignation: 

To  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College: 

For  the  last  eighteen  months  I  have  been  conscious  of  an  un- 
defined physical  disability  which  has  given  me  at  times  serious 
embarrassment,  especially  in  meeting  public  engagements.  The 
sudden  and  somewhat  protracted  sickness  through  which  I  have 
been  passing  has  revealed  the  cause,  namely,  an  impairment  of 
the  heart.  My  physicians,  Drs.  Smith  and  Gile,  advise  me  that  I 
cannot  expect  to  do  further  efficient  executive  work.  I  take  the 
earliest  opportunity  to  apprize  you  of  their  decision,  and  to 
place  before  you  my  resignation  of  the  Presidency  of  the  College. 
I  have  long  recognized  the  fact  that  there  are  no  gradations  in 


398  MY  GENERATION 

the  work  of  a  college  president,  in  the  way  either  of  responsi- 
bility or  of  initiative.  From  the  nature  of  the  work  there  can  be 
but  one  standard  of  efficiency.  While  therefore  I  anticipate  by 
two  or  three  years  the  natural  time  of  my  resignation,  I  do  so 
with  prompt  and  cheerful  acquiescence  in  the  law  of  all  admin- 
istrative service,  which  makes  no  provision  for  crippled  leader- 
ship. I  now  return  to  my  books  from  which  I  virtually  parted 
company  when  I  assumed  the  absorbing  duties  of  the  presi- 
dency. If  it  shall  seem  to  you  to  be  a  useful  service,  and  in  other 
respects  wise,  I  shall  be  glad  to  retain  an  informal  connection 
with  the  College  through  one  or  more  courses  of  lectures,  open 
to  seniors,  upon  the  general  subject  of  the  "Formation  and  Ex- 
pression of  Public  Opinion  in  a  Democracy." 

I  cannot  put  by  these  fourteen  years  of  service,  happy  in  their 
associations  and  inspiring  in  their  purpose,  without  a  word  of 
grateful  acknowledgment  to  those  through  whom  the  service 
has  been  made  one  of  mutual  obligation  and  delight  —  first  to 
you  for  your  steadfast  and  unwavering  support,  and  then  to 
the  faculty,  and  to  the  students  of  successive  classes,  and  to  the 
alumni,  each  and  all  of  whom  have  contributed  everything  in 
their  power  to  the  common  end.  With  such  cooperation  no 
reasonable  good  to  the  College  has  seemed  unattainable.  The 
things  which  remain  to  be  accomplished,  very  much  larger  than 
any  which  have  been  wrought,  go  over  with  equal  incentive  and 
hope  to  other  hands.  I  count  it  a  joy  that,  as  I  now  relinquish  the 
position  which  you  asked  me  as  a  graduate  of  the  College  to  take, 
I  may  resume  my  place  in  the  united  and  enthusiastic  fellowship 
of  our  graduates,  to  add  one  more  supporting  force  to  the  work  of 
my  successor  in  the  Presidency. 

I  am  in  constant  esteem 

Most  sincerely  yours 

W.  J.  Tucker 

Naturally  it  required  some  little  time  for  the  Trustees 
to  convince  themselves  of  the  finality  which  the  letter 
of  resignation  carried  on  its  face,  but  after  full  con- 
ference with  Mr.  Hopkins,  the  Secretary  of  the  College, 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  399 

who  had  been  conversant  with  the  exact  state  of  affairs 
from  the  beginning,  and  after  advising  personally  with  the 
physicians,  they  addressed  themselves  directly  to  the  emer- 
gency. There  was  one  man  to  whom  their  thoughts  turned 
unanimously  for  the  succession  to  the  presidency,  Professor 
Francis  Brown,  of  Union  Seminary,  but  as  at  a  previous 
time,  his  obligations  to  the  Seminary  were  found  to  be 
paramount.  It  was  impossible  to  act  with  like  unanimity 
in  the  choice  of  any  other  person  among  the  alumni  or 
among  well-known  educators;  and  meanwhile  the  press 
was  becoming  persistent  in  its  search  for  reliable  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  my  condition.  To  relieve  the  situation, 
the  Trustees  asked  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  withdraw 
my  resignation  for  a  few  months,  with  immediate  leave  of 
absence,  and  with  provision  for  all  necessary  relief  from 
official  duties  should  the  chair  remain  unfilled  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  next  academic  year.  To  this  request  I  made  the 
following  response : 

To  the  Trustees  of  Dartmouth  College : 

On  the  sixth  of  April,  after  the  consultation  of  the  doctors  in 
regard  to  my  present  sickness,  I  communicated  to  you  the  re- 
sult of  their  decision,  namely,  that  owing  to  an  impairment  of 
the  heart,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  continue  in  the  full 
discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  presidency.  It  seemed  to  me  so 
essential  that  the  duties  of  the  office  should  be  maintained  in 
full  efficiency  that  I  placed  before  you  my  resignation  —  "Al- 
though," as  I  then  wrote,  "I  anticipated  by  two  or  three  years 
the  natural  time  of  my  resignation,  I  do  so  with  prompt  and 
cheerful  acceptance  of  the  law  of  all  administrative  service 
which  makes  no  provision  for  crippled  leadership." 

My  letter  was  sent  to  you  confidentially  in  the  hope  that  you 
might  be  able  to  announce  the  election  of  my  successor  at  the 
same  time  that  you  announced  my  resignation.  Acting  under 
the  urgency  of  my  desire,  you  endeavored  to  bring  about  the 


4oo  MY  GENERATION 

result,  but  after  earnest  effort  you  found  that  this  course  was 
impracticable.  You  now  ask  me  to  withhold  my  letter,  and  to 
retain  the  general  supervision  of  the  College  until  such  time  as 
you  may  be  able  to  give  it  over  to  my  successor,  without  inter- 
ruption to  its  work  or  policy.  I  had  proposed,  as  you  will  recall, 
to  retain  an  informal  connection  with  the  College  by  the  service 
which  I  might  render  through  a  lectureship,  but  if  in  your  judg- 
ment I  can  render  a  better  service  for  the  time  being  by  continu- 
ing in  partial  executive  work,  I  accede  to  your  request.  I  shall  be 
obliged,  however,  to  act  under  the  following  definite  restrictions 
—  absence  for  the  remainder  of  this  year;  and  for  the  next  year, 
or  such  part  of  it  as  you  may  require,  exemption  from  much  of 
the  daily  routine  and  from  public  engagements.  I  need  not  as- 
sure you  of  my  desire  and  purpose  to  cooperate  with  you  in  all 
of  your  immediate  plans  for  the  maintenance  and  advancement 
of  the  College.  I  see  no  reason  whatever  for  any  change  in  the 
policy  which  has  heretofore  governed  your  action,  nor  for  the 
slightest  abatement  of  your  efforts  for  the  strengthening,  or 
enrichment,  or  increase  of  the  inheritance  which  you  have  the 
honor  to  administer. 
I  am 

In  constant  esteem  and  affection 

W.  J.  Tucker 

Hanover,  N.H. 

May  11,  1907 

At  the  date  of  this  letter  I  was  still  confined  to  my  room, 
though  I  had  entered  upon  the  stage  of  convalescence. 
As  soon  as  my  strength  allowed,  Mrs.  Tucker  and  I  left 
our  home  for  Nantucket,  where  provision  had  been  made 
by  friends  for  our  reception  quite  in  advance  of  the  season. 
No  choice  of  a  resting-place  could  have  been  happier. 
There  is  a  delightful  sense  of  remoteness  about  Nantucket, 
far  enough  at  sea  to  emphasize  its  separateness  from  "the 
continent."  Out  of  the  season  it  has  a  still  more  delightful 
remoteness  from  the  present.    The  daily  steamer  brings 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  401 

its  welcome  mail  and  certain  supplies,  but  otherwise  it  is 
an  intrusion.  The  island  is  quite  self-contained.  Perhaps 
the  first  impression  on  the  mind  of  a  visitor  or  guest  is  that 
of  a  real  and  genuine  self-sufficiency.  The  streets  of  the  old 
town  so  finely  adjusted  to  its  local  needs  and  to  its  exercise 
of  hospitality;  the  old  but  well-kept  houses,  of  substance 
whether  of  brick  or  wood,  their  Captain's  Walk,  reminiscent 
of  the  early  glories  of  the  island;  and  the  old  wharves, 
though  no  longer  lined  with  the  ships  of  trade,  still  alive 
in  the  early  morning  or  in  the  late  afternoon  with  the 
fleets  of  smacks  and  schooners  going  and  coming  about  the 
day's  work  —  all  these  were  a  never-failing  source  of  rest- 
ful diversion.  But  the  chief  delight  of  the  island  both  to 
Mrs.  Tucker  and  myself  was  the  long  stretch  of  the  moors, 
with  their  deep-rutted  roads  through  the  stiff  sand,  car- 
peted with  vines  and  clustered  thick  with  dainty  flowers  in 
the  spring  which  turned  to  the  rich  berries  of  the  fall.  To 
lie  in  the  open  sunshine  in  the  tangled  grasses  of  the  moors 
or  on  the  sands,  was  to  take  the  healing  tonic  of  Nature 
at  its  best,  to  feel  the  subtle  invigoration  which  comes 
through  the  relaxing  of  the  muscles  and  the  easing  of  the 
whole  tension  of  body  and  mind.  During  the  stay  on  the 
island  I  was  under  the  professional  care  of  Dr.  Grouard, 
a  young  physician  highly  trained  in  the  schools  at  home 
and  abroad,  who  had  established  himself  on  the  island, 
whose  practice  was  as  greatly  valued  by  summer  residents 
as  by  the  inhabitants.  I  owe  much  to  his  sympathetic  and 
skillful  treatment  of  my  case  during  this  period  of  con- 
valescence. Our  home  for  the  time,  as  indeed  on  later 
visits,  was  at  Greynook,  the  house  owned  and  managed 
by  Miss  Dexter  and  Miss  Brayton,  residents  of  Providence, 
but  thoroughly  at  home  in  Nantucket.  They  had  the  true 


4o2  MY  GENERATION 

art  of  the  hostess,  knowing  precisely  what  to  do  and  what 
not  to  do  for  their  guests.  Greynook  stood  on  the  cliffs 
above  the  town,  overlooking  the  breakwater  and  the  har- 
bor lights,  and  the  open  sea  to  the  west.  From  our  windows 
we  could  sight  the  "Nantucket"  and  the  "Sankaty" 
soon  after  they  passed  the  Cross-Rip  Lightship  on  the 
homeward  trip. 

During  my  absence  from  the  College  the  local  duties  of 
the  office  were  discharged  by  Acting  President  Lord,  as- 
sisted by  Secretary  Hopkins;  and  in  the  partial  resumption 
of  these  duties  on  my  return  I  was  increasingly  indebted 
to  the  active  cooperation  of  both  Professor  Lord  and  Mr. 
Hopkins.  The  months  of  continued  service,  which  had  been 
promised  to  the  Trustees,  lengthened  into  the  year,  and 
the  year  into  a  second,  while  the  unsuccessful  search  for 
a  president  went  on.  Outwardly  the  College  kept  its  mo- 
mentum. There  was  no  diminution  in  attendance.  Build- 
ings which  had  been  planned  were  carried  to  completion  — 
Massachusetts  and  New  Hampshire  among  the  dormitories, 
the  Nathan  Smith  (Medical)  laboratory,  Webster  Alumni 
Hall,  and  the  enlargement  of  Rollins  Chapel.  The  nor- 
mal increase  of  the  Faculty  was  maintained.  An  important 
addition  to  the  annual  resources  of  the  College  was  intro- 
duced, in  the  action  of  the  alumni  at  the  annual  meeting  at 
Commencement  in  1907,  inaugurating  a  fund  of  yearly  sub- 
scription for  certain  specified  objects,  after  the  manner  of 
the  Yale  Alumni  Fund.  I  was  apprised  of  this  action  of  the 
alumni  while  in  Nantucket  by  the  request  through  Mr. 
Hilton  that  the  fund  bear  my  name.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  grateful  to  me  at  the  time  than  to  have  my 
name  associated  with  this  constant  and  constantly  increas- 
ing source  of  financial  supply  to  the  College.  And  I  have 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  403 

shared  in  the  gratification  of  the  whole  alumni  body  in  the 
result  of  the  subscription  of  1917-18  through  which  the 
war  deficit  for  that  academic  year  was  entirely  wiped  out, 
and  a  surplus  left  to  be  applied  to  special  objects. 

As  I  have  already  remarked,  a  college  president  upon  re- 
tirement should  not  allow  himself  to  indulge  overmuch  in 
plans  for  his  successor  to  carry  out.  Each  new  incumbent 
of  the  office  should  have,  so  far  as  consistent  with  the  nec- 
essary continuity  of  executive  action,  the  unencumbered 
freedom  of  initiative.  There  were,  however,  at  the  time  of 
the  temporary  withdrawal  of  my  resignation,  two  plans 
affecting  in  different  ways  the  interests  of  the  Faculty  that 
I  had  for  some  time  had  in  mind,  which  I  now  relinquished 
with  reluctance.  One  of  them  had  to  do  with  the  increase  of 
the  productivity  of  the  College  in  teachers  of  college  grade. 
The  deficiency  of  Dartmouth  in  this  regard  had  begun  to 
affect  its  own  interests.  There  was  of  course  the  compensa- 
tion, already  noted,  in  the  enforced  obligation  to  other  col- 
leges for  so  large  a  proportion  of  its  teaching  force,  that  it 
insured  the  College  against  provincialism.  But  this  safe- 
guard was  maintained  at  the  cost  of  academic  productivity. 
Experience  was  beginning  to  show  that  this  failure  of  the 
College  to  produce  in  proper  proportion  its  own  teachers 
meant  an  educational  as  well  as  an  institutional  loss.  The 
loss  was  manifested  especially  in  the  unstable  and  imper- 
manent character  of  the  lower  grades  of  instruction.  To 
remedy  this  state  of  affairs,  several  teaching  scholarships 
and  fellowships  had  been  created.  It  was  made  a  condition 
of  receiving  appointment  to  the  fellowships  that  the  recip- 
ients should  hold  themselves  in  readiness  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  their  graduate  study  to  teach  for  a  year  should  the 
College  need  their  service  in  the  departments  in  which 


404  MY  GENERATION 

they  were  qualified  to  instruct.  A  further  aid  and  stimu- 
lus to  a  larger  interest  in  college  teaching  was  indicated  in 
the  policy  of  more  careful  and  generous  recognition  of  such 
graduates  as  had  already  shown  the  requisite  aptitude 
and  attainments  for  positions  on  the  Faculty,  as  vacancies 
might  occur. 

In  the  carrying-out  of  this  purpose  to  increase  the  inter- 
est of  the  College  in  academic  teaching,  an  incident  occurred 
that  disclosed  a  hitherto  unsuspected  sensitiveness  in  the  re- 
lation between  the  professional  and  the  executive  concep- 
tions of  college  administration.  An  election  to  an  assistant 
professorship  in  one  of  the  departments  was  to  be  made. 
Among  the  instructors  was  one  of  special  qualifications  for 
the  position.  His  promotion  would  have  naturally  followed, 
had  the  fact  not  become  known,  through  an  interview,  that 
his  interest  was  altogether  in  a  related  subject  lying  out- 
side the  curriculum  of  a  college,  but  included  in  the  cur- 
riculum of  a  given  university,  from  which  university  he 
hoped  soon  to  receive  an  appointment.  When  asked  if  a 
continuance  of  his  service  in  the  grade  of  an  instructor 
would  be  satisfactory  to  him  while  waiting  for  the  expected 
transfer,  he  gave  his  assent  to  the  proposal,  and  the  elec- 
tion to  the  assistant  professorship  went  to  a  well-qualified 
graduate,  teaching  elsewhere,  on  the  ground  that  his  elec- 
tion would  give  stability  to  the  department.  Of  course  this 
reason  was  specially  evident  from  the  institutional  point  of 
view.  Exception,  however,  was  at  once  taken  by  several 
members  of  the  Faculty  to  the  view  and  to  the  action  fol- 
lowing, on  the  ground  that  it  was  a  professional  wrong  to 
withhold  a  merited  promotion,  because  the  instructor  con- 
cerned could  give  no  assurance  of  continuing  in  the  ad- 
vanced position  if  elected  to  it.  It  was  claimed  that  in  a  pos- 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  405 

sible  uncertainty  about  the  tenure  of  a  position,  the  benefit 
of  any  doubt  should  be  given  to  a  candidate  for  promotion 
rather  than  to  the  College  in  its  institutional  necessities. 
The  incident  aroused  much  feeling,  but  was  soon  closed  by 
the  acceptance  of  the  instructor  in  question  of  an  appoint- 
ment to  the  expected  position  in  university  teaching.  I  felt, 
however,  that  the  closing  of  the  incident  did  not  settle  the 
question  to  which  it  had  given  rise;  and  had  time  and 
strength  allowed,  I  should  have  addressed  myself  to  an 
attempt  at  the  settlement  of  the  underlying  question.  It 
seemed  to  me  then  as  now  that  the  question  should  not  be 
conceived  as  having  two  sides,  but  only  as  involving  a  com- 
mon responsibility.  The  separation  of  the  question  into  one 
of  rights  and  responsibilities  results  in  one  form  or  another 
in  the  idea  of  arbitration.  The  solution  of  the  problem  lies, 
as  I  believe,  in  such  a  sharing  of  authority  as  will  make 
the  assumption  of  a  common  responsibility  natural  and 
necessary. 

The  other  plan  arrested  by  my  resignation  had  to  do 
with  the  inauguration  of  a  pension  system.  I  confess  that 
I  had  not  gone  beyond  the  idea  of  a  "non-contributory" 
system.  That  in  fact  was  the  only  system  then  before  the 
public.  My  distinct  feeling  was  that  it  belonged  to  the  Col- 
lege to  provide  the  pension.  I  could  see  no  logical  reason 
why  pensions  should  be  assumed  by  an  outside  board  any 
more  than  salaries  in  proportionate  part.  There  seemed  to 
me  to  be  a  decided  objection  in  this  partnership  between  a 
charitable  board  and  a  college,  in  the  matter  of  meeting  the 
annual  expense  of  maintenance  of  the  teaching  force.  The 
argument  that  a  pension  provided  by  a  college  would  come 
to  mean  only  deferred  payment  of  salary  suggested  a  liabil- 
ity, but  did  not  to  my  mind  imply  a  necessity.  On  the  other 


4o6  MY  GENERATION 

hand,  I  could  see  that  a  pension  drawn  from  an  outside 
source  might  be  more  grateful  to  some  members  of  a  faculty 
than  one  drawn  from  their  college  could  be.  Pensions  drawn 
from  the  colleges  might  fetter  the  movement  of  professors. 
An  outside  pension  might  conduce  to  greater  mobility.  If 
the  idea  of  substituting  insurance  for  free  pensions  had 
then  been  proposed,  I  do  not  know  how  it  would  have 
impressed  me.  It  now  seems  to  be  in  many  ways  a  desir- 
able as  well  as  a  necessary  modification  of  the  pension 
system. 

I  may  add  in  this  connection  that  while  the  pension  prob- 
lem was  pending,  Secretary  Hopkins  proposed  a  change  in 
the  terms  of  the  Sabbatical  year  which  made  that  system  of 
much  greater  advantage  to  the  majority  of  the  Faculty 
than  it  had  been,  namely,  the  allowance  of  a  half-year  on 
full  salary,  instead  of  a  full  year  on  half-salary,  leaving  the 
choice  to  the  individual  professor. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  second  year  under  the  temporary 
withdrawal  of  my  resignation,  I  gave  the  opening  address  in 
Webster  Hall  and  later  an  address  on  the  return  to  the  en- 
larged Rollins  Chapel,  but  otherwise  I  confined  myself  for 
the  most  part  to  office  work.  I  attended  the  regular  and 
special  meetings  of  the  Trustees,  and  as  far  as  possible  the 
meetings  of  the  Faculty.  Refore  giving  over  the  year's  work 
I  prepared,  at  the  request  of  the  Trustees,  a  report  of  the 
period  of  my  administration  addressed  to  the  alumni,  the 
scope  of  which  may  be  inferred  from  the  introductory 
statement: 

As  my  acceptance  of  the  presidency  in  1893  was  associated 
with  what  was  then  known  as  "The  Alumni  Movement,"  the 
Trustees  have  thought  it  fit  that  upon  my  retirement  I  should 
make  a  separate  and  somewhat  comprehensive  report  to  you 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  407 

concerning  the  administration  of  the  college  during  the  period 
of  my  incumbency.  In  submitting  this  report  I  do  not  care  to 
dwell  upon  outward  results  further  than  may  be  necessary  by 
way  of  illustration.  I  am  anxious  rather  that  you  should  under- 
stand the  principles  according  to  which  the  college  has  been  ad- 
ministered during  a  well  defined,  and  in  some  respects  danger- 
ous, period  in  its  history,  namely,  the  period  of  reconstruction 
and  expansion.  Such  periods  are  manifestly  essential  to  the  prog- 
ress of  our  older  educational  institutions.  Whenever  the  general 
system  of  which  they  are  a  part  demands  of  them  readjustment 
and  expansion  the  risks  of  inertia  are  far  greater  than  the  risks 
of  innovation.  I  know  of  but  one  qualification  to  this  statement 
—  the  treatment  must  be  constructive.  Lord  Curzon  has  re- 
marked in  a  recent  letter  to  the  University  of  Oxford  on  the 
"Principles  and  Methods  of  University  Reform,"  "We  may 
learn  from  the  experience  of  previous  Commissions  that  success- 
ful reform  at  Oxford  has  almost  invariably  originated  in  recon- 
struction rather  than  in  destruction;  and  that  the  institutions 
which  last  the  longest  and  work  the  best  are  those  which  have 
been  erected  on  older  foundations,  or,  under  skillful  treatment, 
have  assumed  fresh  and  harmonious  shapes." 

As  I  interpreted  the  needs  of  the  College,  when  I  assumed  the 
presidency,  the  policy  of  reconstruction  with  a  view  to  expansion 
seemed  to  me  to  be  the  only  adequate  policy.  There  were  at  that 
time  certain  facts  of  very  great  educational  importance  to  be 
considered :  the  vast  extension  of  the  subject-matter  of  the  higher 
education,  involving  corresponding  advances  in  the  methods  of 
instruction;  the  rapid  growth  of  high  schools  as  fitting  schools  for 
the  colleges,  virtually  creating  a  new  college  constituency;  and 
the  sudden  increase  of  endowments  and  appropriations  for  col- 
leges and  universities,  making  itself  felt  not  so  much  in  competi- 
tion as  through  an  enlarged  scale  of  expenditure.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  ignore  or  evade  any  one  of  these  facts.  The  obligation 
resting  upon  an  historic  college  like  Dartmouth  to  preserve  its 
well-recognized  individuality  was  no  more  evident  nor  impera- 
tive than  was  the  requirement  that  it  should  relate  itself  effi- 
ciently to  its  new  educational  environment. 


4o8  .       MY  GENERATION 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  from  the  prolongation  of  my  term 
of  official  service  that  the  Trustees  were  not  earnest  and 
diligent  in  their  search  for  a  president.  They  carried  on 
their  efforts  steadily,  unhampered  by  any  restrictive  influ- 
ences. They  naturally  sought  at  first  a  graduate  of  the  Col- 
lege, but  they  did  not  allow  themselves  to  come  under  this 
restriction.  Of  the  two  men  with  whom  they  conferred 
most  fully  in  regard  to  the  presidency,  one  was  a  graduate, 
the  other  was  not.  Their  final  choice  fell  upon  one  not  a 
graduate  of  the  College,  but  familiar  with  its  inner  work- 
ings through  active  service  in  an  important  professorship. 
It  was  with  great  satisfaction  that  they  were  able  to  an- 
nounce shortly  before  the  Commencement  of  1909  the 
election  and  acceptance  of  Dr.  Ernest  Fox  Nichols,  then 
at  Columbia.  Immediately  upon  this  announcement  I  sent 
the  following  communication  to  the  editor  of  "  The  Dart- 
mouth": 

As  there  is  no  immediate  opportunity  of  presenting  Doctor 
Nichols  to  the  undergraduates,  allow  me  to  give  a  word  of  intro- 
duction through  your  columns.  Doctor  Nichols  belongs  to  our 
fellowship  by  the  right  of  five  years  of  brilliant  service  in  the 
chair  of  Physics,  a  service  recognized  by  the  trustees  by  the  hon- 
orary degree  of  Doctor  of  Science.  But  he  is  much  more  closely 
one  of  us  by  his  sympathies.  I  have  never  attended  a  dinner  of 
Dartmouth  men  in  New  York  at  which  he  was  not  present.  He 
comes  back  to  us  as  he  left  us,  his  heart  unchanged.  He  returns 
with  a  reputation  which  has  been  increasing  year  by  year  at 
home  and  abroad.  Few  scholars  in  any  department  have  gained 
the  position  which  he  holds  as  a  man  of  forty.  It  is  also  his  dis- 
tinction that  he  has  won  his  place  in  a  department  crowded  with 
workers  intent  on  research.  The  change  which  he  makes  to  ad- 
ministration does  not  require  of  him  the  sacrifice  or  repression 
of  powers  which  have  given  him  success.  Doctor  Nichols  is  es- 
sentially a  man  of  imagination.  He  sees  things  that  are  to  be,  as 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  409 

well  as  things  that  are.  For  this  reason  I  anticipate  from  him  as 
brilliant  a  service  in  administration  as  he  has  rendered  in  re- 
search or  instruction.  I  anticipate  no  less  that  through  his  per- 
sonality he  will  establish  himself  at  once  in  the  hearts  of  under- 
graduates and  graduates  of  the  College. 

June  12,  1909 

It  had  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  present  the  Trus- 
tees to  President-elect  Nichols  at  a  meeting  held  just  after 
his  election  at  which  he  was  present  by  request  of  the  Trus- 
tees. And  it  was  no  less  a  pleasure  both  to  Mrs.  Tucker  and 
myself  to  be  able  to  present  the  Faculty  and  their  families, 
and  the  students,  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Nichols  at  a  reception 
arranged  in  their  honor  at  College  Hall.  In  the  discharge  of 
this  most  happy  function  my  official  service  practically  ter- 
minated. I  took  no  part  in  the  formal  exercises  of  the  en- 
suing Commencement.  The  part  which  I  took  was  much 
more  personal  than  official  —  a  virtual  resumption  of  my 
place  among  the  alumni  through  the  following  brief  speech 
at  the  Alumni  Dinner. 

Through  the  very  great  kindness  of  Acting  President  Lord  [he 
had  conferred  the  degrees]  and  also  of  my  old-time  friend  Profes- 
sor Palmer  of  Harvard  [who  had  given  the  Baccalaureate],  I 
have  been  relieved  of  the  more  formal  duties  of  the  Commence- 
ment season.  This  relief  enables  me  to  sit  at  table  with  you  to- 
day, and  to  take  part  briefly  in  the  after-dinner  speaking,  though, 
I  regret  to  say,  through  the  written  word.  Very  naturally  my 
thought  runs  to-day  to  the  relation  between  the  transient  and 
the  permanent  in  our  college  life.  This  question  of  the  transient 
and  the  permanent  confronts  us  everywhere,  but  nowhere  I 
think  does  it  reach  so  happy  a  solution  as  here;  for  here  we  not 
only  see,  but  feel,  that  the  transient  goes  over  into  the  perma- 
nent so  naturally,  almost  so  imperceptibly,  and  with  such  a  com- 
pensating joy  that  hardly  a  sign  is  left  of  the  change.  And  this 
for  the  very  simple  reason  that  a  college  is  not  so  much  an  insti- 


4io  MY  GENERATION 

tution  as  it  is  a  movement,  a  procession.  Nine  tenths  of  all  that 
pertains  to  a  college  is  human,  perhaps  one  tenth  is  material.  I 
shall  want  to  say  something  of  the  material  embodiment  of  the 
College  before  I  close,  for  it  is  very  precious.  But  the  perpetuity 
of  a  college  lies  in  this  ceaseless  movement  of  life,  in  this  ever- 
flowing  stream  which  reaches  the  sea  only  to  replenish  the 
springs.  Here,  for  example,  are  two  hundred  men  who  are  to- 
day passing  out  of  the  transient  into  their  relatively  permanent 
relation  to  the  College.  The  undergraduate  has  his  day.  The 
coming  years  belong  to  the  graduate.  Go  where  he  will,  return  as 
often  as  he  will,  present  or  absent,  he  is  in  and  of  the  College, 
moving  in  its  ample  freedom. 

Here  again  are  men  to  whom  the  permanent  seems  to  be  pass- 
ing back  into  the  transient.  The  decades  have  gone  which 
brought  them  to  fifty,  sixty,  seventy,  seventy-two  years  of  grad- 
uate life.  But  here  again  the  permanent  is  becoming  the  transient 
only  to  re-appear  in  the  hope  of  a  lasting  permanency.  Somehow 
our  brethren  as  they  become  the  men  of  the  past  seem  to  be 
nearer  to  the  ever-living  personality  of  the  College  than  we  are. 
I  chanced  to  read  the  other  day  a  reference  of  Mr.  Choate  to  the 
words  in  which  Mr.  Webster  brought  the  College  before  the 
Supreme  Court,  "I  have  brought  my  alma  mater  to  this  presence 
that  if  she  must  fall  she  may  fall  in  her  robes  and  with  dignity." 
Those  words  were  spoken  ninety  years  ago.  Who  amongst  us 
to-day  are  so  much  alive  in  our  relation  to  the  College  as  were 
the  actors  in  that  scene ! 

Here  again  we  are  come  to  a  distinct  change  in  the  organized 
life  of  the  College  itself,  a  change  of  administration.  Every  ad- 
ministration stands  for  certain  things  which  are  relatively  tran- 
sient. When  you  have  answered  the  questions  which  men  so 
often  ask,  how  much  money,  how  many  students,  what  new 
subjects,  you  have  not  necessarily  said  anything  which  relates 
itself  very  vitally  to  the  future.  These  are  only  fragments  of  the 
great  question  which  every  administration  has  to  answer,  not 
what  it  has  done  for  the  College  in  the  way  of  annual  return  of 
any  sort,  but  further  and  chiefly,  in  what  condition  does  it  leave 
the  College  to  meet  the  always  urgent  demands  of  its  immediate 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  411 

future.  What  a  given  administration  does  to  secure  the  success 
of  the  next  is  the  test  by  which  it  must  be  judged.  When  I  took 
over  the  College  from  Doctor  Bartlett,  there  came  over  with  the 
succession  not  only  the  effect  of  his  intellectual  character  and 
achievements,  but  also  the  results  of  a  brave,  self-denying,  sac- 
rificing administration.  The  decade  of  the  80's  was  a  decade  of 
financial  struggle,  sometimes  expressing  itself  in  sharp  retrench- 
ment, sometimes  in  persistent  solicitation.  It  was  in  no  small 
degree  the  resolute  force  of  Doctor  Bartlett,  compacting  the 
body  corporate,  at  the  price  of  much  effort  and  no  little  hard- 
ship, which  made  possible  the  era  of  expansion  which  was  to  fol- 
low. The  administration  which  now  goes  out  must  meet  the  like 
test.  What  has  it  made  possible  for  the  incoming  administration 
to  accomplish?  How  firmly  is  the  College  established  to  meet  the 
issues  which  await  it?  President  Lowell  has  recently  said  that 
probably  three  fourths  of  the  American  educators  have  ceased 
to  believe  in  the  college  as  an  integral  part  of  the  educational 
system.  That  is  not  his  unbelief,  he  declares  emphatically.  But 
in  the  reassertion  of  his  faith  in  Harvard  College  as  well  as  in 
Harvard  University,  he  announced  distinctly  one  impending 
issue  in  our  educational  world.  As  my  successor  must  make 
answer  to  present  criticism  or  unbeliefs  concerning  the  college 
idea,  is  this  College,  now  his  college,  in  condition  to  enable  him 
to  speak  with  authority  concerning  its  own  future,  and  with  as- 
surance to  others  of  its  kind?  It  is  for  my  successor  to  say,  within 
the  fair  limits  of  the  policy  which  he  may  adopt,  what  the  imme- 
diate future  of  the  College  shall  be.  The  present  administration 
will  have  little  or  no  value  to  him  in  this  outlook,  unless  it  shall 
appear  that  it  has  left  the  College  in  condition  for  him  to  say 
what  its  future  shall  be.  According  to  the  value  of  this  contribu- 
tion the  present  administration  passes  away  into  the  transient, 
or  it  passes  out  of  the  transient  into  the  permanent.  Some  of  the 
younger  among  you  have  been  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  New 
Dartmouth.  Our  President-elect  in  addressing  the  undergradu- 
ates the  other  day  spoke  of  the  newer  Dartmouth.  That  was 
right;  the  new  is  always  passing  over  into  the  newer.  So  doing, 
it  lives.  If  it  were  not  for  this  process,  a  college  would  not  grow 
old,  it  would  grow  stale. 


4i2  MY  GENERATION 

In  the  midst  of  the  changes,  however,  which  are  involved  as 
the  transient  gives  way  to  the  more  permanent,  it  is  quite  easy 
to  overestimate  the  element  of  change.  Not  infrequently  the 
superficial  aspects  are  emphasized.  Not  a  little  had  been  said  in 
the  daily  press  about  the  change  of  type  represented  in  the  elec- 
tion of  a  scientist  to  the  presidency  of  Dartmouth  College.  I 
think  that  I  have  the  mind  of  the  trustees  when  I  say  that  Doc- 
tor Nichols  was  elected  to  the  presidency,  not  because  he  was  a 
scientist  in  distinction  from  an  economist,  a  classicist,  or  a  psy- 
chologist, but  rather  because  being  a  scientist,  he  had  reached 
such  distinction  as  to  reveal  the  quality  of  his  mind,  and  also 
because  he  had  reached  a  position  broad  enough  and  clear 
enough  to  give  him  outlook  in  other  directions.  While  he  was 
with  us  it  was  always  a  delight  to  follow  him,  so  far  as  one  might, 
in  his  scientific  researches;  but  outside  his  laboratory  I  thought 
of  him  as  showing  the  spirit  of  the  humanist  or  the  idealist  quite 
as  much  as  the  spirit  of  the  more  technical  scientist.  In  the  search 
of  these  modern  days  for  a  college  president,  trustees  can  dis- 
cover the  man  only  through  his  work,  which  to  be  significant 
must  always  represent  some  degree  of  specialization,  but  their 
search  is  no  less  for  the  man,  and  in  the  present  case  they  are 
assured  that  they  have  found  him. 

I  said  as  I  began  that  nine  tenths  of  all  that  pertains  to  a  col- 
lege is  human,  but  that  the  remaining  tenth,  the  material  em- 
bodiment of  the  college,  was  precious.  Always  in  the  background 
of  this  steady  movement  of  life  stands  the  ancestral  home.  The 
generations  of  college  men  come  and  go,  and  come  back  again 
and  again.  Thirty-five  generations  of  men  have  come  hither  and 
gone  hence,  returning  year  by  year  in  increasing  throngs. 

"  Though  round  the  girded  earth  they  roam 
The  spell  is  on  them  still. 


The  mother  keeps  them  in  her  heart 
And  guards  the  Altar  flame. 

Around  the  world  they  keep  for  her 
Their  old  chivalric  faith." 


THE  DARTMOUTH  PERIOD  413 

This  is  college  sentiment.  We  must  be  careful  how  and  where  we 
apply  it.  When  we  apply  it  to  ourselves  as  sons  of  Dartmouth, 
we  may  not  use  it  to  hide  one  another's  faults  or  to  exaggerate 
one  another's  virtues.  Once  out  in  the  world  where  man  meets 
man,  we  are  in  the  open  competition  for  honesty,  justice,  and 
charity.  But  when  our  hearts  turn  hitherward,  we  must  not  be 
afraid  of  sentiment.  Let  the  mother  of  us  all  know,  by  visible 
and  enduring  signs,  that  you  love  her.  Let  her  never  be  made 
ashamed,  in  any  respect,  for  herself,  not  simply  for  her  sons,  as 
she  stands  with  the  years  falling  upon  her  in  the  midst  of  the 
older  and  the  younger  colleges  of  the  land.  Better  yet,  see  to  it 
that  her  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  the  hills  which  guard  her, 
and  her  beauty  like  their  beauty,  simple,  true,  sufficient. 


CHAPTER  X 

"THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME" 

A  Partial  Resumption  of  Literary  and  Semi-public  Work 

When  I  closed  the  door  of  my  office  on  July  15,  the  end 
of  the  fiscal  year  following  the  Commencement  of  1909,  I 
went  to  my  home  in  much  freedom  of  mind  and  with  a  cer- 
tain exhilaration  of  spirit.  It  was  with  more  than  a  feeling  of 
relief  that  I  entered  upon  my  retirement.  First  of  all,  there 
was  the  sense  of  satisfaction  that  the  College  was  at  length 
relieved  of  the  burden  of  the  last  two  years  of  "crippled 
leadership,"  and  was  now  about  to  pass  into  the  competent 
hands  of  my  successor.  Then,  in  regard  to  my  own  future, 
there  was  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  its  limitations.  The 
knowledge  of  one's  limitations  ought  to  be  a  source  of  con- 
tentment, or  an  incentive  to  utilize  the  powers  still  availa- 
ble. In  my  case  there  was  first  the  sense  of  contentment, 
which,  however,  soon  gave  place  to  incentives  to  further  ac- 
tivities. The  limitation  which  was  most  definite  and  abso- 
lute was  the  restriction  upon  public  speaking,  a  restriction 
in  which  I  readily  acquiesced.  I  had  already  become  con- 
scious before  receiving  the  sharp  reminder  of  physical 
disability  in  this  regard,  that  public  speaking  has  other 
dangers  which  threaten  with  the  approach  of  age.  There 
lurks  in  the  habit,  even  in  the  discipline  which  makes  one  a 
ready  speaker,  the  growing  danger  of  substituting  the  prac- 
ticed art  for  the  thoroughly  prepared  thought.  The  neces- 
sity was  not  unwelcome  to  me  which  required  for  further 
public  expression  the  change  from  speaking  to  writing. 
But  the  chief  satisfaction  growing  out  of  my  retirement 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    415 

lay  in  the  fact  that  it  gave  at  once  a  new  meaning  to  the 
home.  When  I  came  to  Hanover  I  bought  of  Professor  Ar- 
thur Sherburne  Hardy  the  house  which  he  had  built  on  a 
lot  in  the  college  park.  This  house  I  enlarged  to  make  it  ad- 
equate for  the  social  functions  and  the  entertainment  of 
guests  incident  to  official  relations  to  the  College.  It  was  an 
attractive  house  in  a  pleasant  location  and  in  many  ways 
served  admirably  the  uses  of  a  home,  but  it  was  always 
associated  more  with  the  College  than  with  the  family. 
As  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  college  property  and  was  held 
under  the  proviso  that  if  sold  the  College  should  have  the 
first  right  of  purchase,  the  Trustees  bought  it  upon  my  re- 
tirement and  refitted  it  for  continued  use  as  a  president's 
house.  Anticipating  this  purchase  I  had  bought  a  lot  on 
Occom  Ridge,  immediately  overlooking  the  Connecticut 
and  commanding  a  view  of  the  Moosilauke  Range  lying 
to  the  northeast.  The  house  we  built  on  this  site,  to  the 
arrangement  of  which  Mrs.  Tucker  gave  much  thought, 
was  designed  altogether  for  a  home,  and  also  to  meet  the 
changed  conditions  of  the  family  life.  As  the  household 
itself  grew  smaller  the  family  circle  was  enlarged  by  new 
households.  The  home  became  the  natural  center  for  the 
Christmas  holidays  and  for  all  special  family  occasions 
such  as  the  marriage  of  the  youngest  daughter  and  the 
christening  of  the  younger  grandchildren.1 

1  The  oldest  daughter,  Alice  Lester,  is  the  wife  of  Professor  Frank  Haigh 
Dixon,  for  twenty-one  years  head  of  the  Department  of  Economics  in  Dart- 
mouth College  and  now  Professor  of  Economics  in  Princeton  University.  Their 
children  are  William  Tucker,  Caroline  Moorhouse,  and  Roger  Coit  (born  on  my 
seventy-fifth  birthday).  Margaret,  the  second  daughter,  is  the  wife  of  Judge 
Nelson  Pierce  Brown  (Dartmouth,  '99),  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Massachusetts. 
They  have  built  a  house  in  Hanover  which  they  occupy  as  their  summer  home. 
Their  children  are  Charlotte  Rogers,  Eleanor,  Nelson  Pierce,  and  Stanton.  The 
youngest  daughter,  Elizabeth  Washburn,  is  the  wife  of  Frank  William  Cushwa, 
Odlin  Professor  of  English  at  Phillips  Exeter  Academy.     Their  children  are 


4i 6  MY  GENERATION 

Once  in  our  new  home  we  were  able  to  enter  into  the  en- 
joyment of  its  local  environment.  Hanover  lies  in  a  region 
full  of  the  most  alluring  opportunities  to  a  lover  of  nature. 
It  is  in  that  part  of  the  Connecticut  Valley  which  is 
bounded  on  the  Vermont  side  by  the  Killington  Range, 
and  on  the  New  Hampshire  side  by  the  Moosilauke  Range. 
Within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  from  Hanover  there  are  innu- 
merable points  on  either  side  of  the  river  from  which  one 
sweeps  the  enclosing  ranges,  and  from  which  one  may  also 
reach,  through  breaks  in  the  New  Hampshire  Range,  into 
the  region  of  the  White  Mountains.  Declining  the  motor, 
and  leaving  the  motor  roads,  we  studied  the  old  maps  which 
gave  the  abandoned  roads  over  the  hills,  and  taking  our 
courageous  "Bess,"  and  our  alert  pointer  "Ted,"  we  ex- 
plored the  neighboring  country.  I  do  not  know  whether  our 
reward  was  greater  from  the  nearer  or  from  the  more  dis- 
tant views.  I  had  bought,  some  years  before,  an  abandoned 
farm  on  the  western  slope  of  Moose  Mountain,  which 
commanded  the  Killington  Range  from  Ascutney  to  Pico, 
giving  also  a  glimpse  to  the  north  of  Moosilauke.  As  time 
allowed,  we  used  to  drive  occasionally  to  the  farm  (such 
only  in  name),  but  we  were  now  able  to  put  ourselves  on 
familiar  terms  with  the  neighboring  streams  and  hills 
within  reach  of  one  who  could  no  longer  tramp  or  climb. 

The  withdrawal  from  all  public  engagements  allowed  me 
ample  time  for  such  work  as  my  strength  would  permit; 
but  this  qualification  very  materially  reduced  the  value  of 
the  allowance.  The  situation  was  anomalous,  for  I  found 
that  the  zest  for  work  was  not  at  all  reduced  in  proportion 

Charlotte  Cheever  and  William  Tucker  (born  February  21,  1919).  My  only 
sister,  the  widow  of  David  Collin  Wells,  6rst  Professor  of  Sociology  in  Dart- 
mouth College,  has  continued  to  live  in  Hanover  since  the  death  of  her  husband 
in  1911. 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    417 

to  the  decline  of  working  strength.  This  fact  led  me  to  re- 
flect upon  the  status  of  those  who  under  the  new  provisions 
for  old  age  —  chiefly  retiring  allowances  or  pensions  — 
were  withdrawing  from  educational  and  other  pursuits 
while  still  in  efficient  health.  These  reflections,  emphasized 
by  my  own  experience  so  far  as  it  was  in  evidence,  I  em- 
bodied in  an  article  for  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  under 
date  of  August,  1910,  entitled  "The  New  Reservation  of 
Time."  In  this  article  I  endeavored  to  show  the  changed 
attitude  in  which  it  was  possible  under  this  "reservation" 
to  approach 

"...  that  unhoped  serene 
That  men  call  age." 

It  is  evident  [I  remarked]  that  a  new  principle  has  been  set  at 
work  in  the  social  order.  Society  is  fast  becoming  reorganized 
around  the  principle  of  a  definite  allotment  of  time  to  the  indi- 
vidual for  the  fulfillment  of  his  part  in  the  ordinary  tasks  and 
employments.  The  termination  of  his  period  of  associated  labor 
has  been  fixed  within  the  decade  which  falls  between  his  "three- 
score," and  his  "threescore  and  ten"  years.  The  intention  of 
society  in  trying  to  bring  about  this  uniform,  and,  as  it  will 
prove  to  be  in  most  cases,  reduced,  allotment  of  time  for  the 
ordinary  life-work  of  the  individual,  is  twofold.  .  .  .  The  first 
intention  is  evidently  to  secure  the  greatest  efficiency,  in  some 
employments  the  best  quality  of  work,  in  others  the  largest 
amount.  .  .  .  The  second,  if  not  equally  plain  intention  of  society 
is  to  make  some  adequate  provision  in  time  for  the  individual 
worker  before  he  becomes  a  spent  force.  It  therefore  creates  for 
him  a  reservation  of  time  sufficient  for  his  more  personal  uses. 
Within  this  new  region  of  personal  freedom  he  may  enter  upon 
any  pursuits,  or  engage  in  any  activities  required  by  his  personal 
necessities  or  prompted  by  newly  awakened  ambitions. 

I  am  not  now  concerned  [I  further  remarked]  with  the  results 
which  society  seeks  to  gain  in  carrying  out  its  first  intention.  I 
think  that  the  intention  lies  within  the  ethics  of  business,  and 


4i 8  MY  GENERATION 

that  the  results  to  be  gained  may  be  expected  to  warrant  the 
proposed  allotment  of  time.  But  what  [I  asked]  of  the  second  in- 
tention of  society?  How  far  is  it  likely  to  be  realized?  What  will 
be  the  effect  of  the  scheme  upon  those  now  entering,  and  upon 
those  who  may  hereafter  enter,  on  the  reservation  of  time  pro- 
vided for  them?  What  is  to  be  their  habit  of  mind,  their  dis- 
position, toward  the  reserved  years  which  have  heretofore  been 
reckoned  simply  as  the  years  of  age?  Will  this  change  in  the  or- 
dering of  the  individual  life  intensify  the  reproach  of  age,  or 
remove  it?  Will  the  exceptional  worker  in  the  ranks  of  manual 
or  intellectual  labor,  but  especially  the  latter,  who  feels  that  he 
is  by  no  means  a  spent  force,  accept  reluctantly  the  provision 
made  for  him,  as  if  closing  his  life-work  prematurely,  or  will  he 
accept  it  hopefully,  as  if  opening  a  new  field  for  his  unspent 
energies?  And  as  for  the  average  worker,  to  whom  the  change 
will  doubtless  bring  a  sense  of  relief,  will  he  enter  upon  the 
new  "estate"  aimlessly,  or  "reverently,  discreetly,  advisedly, 
soberly,"  and  withal  in  good  temper  and  cheer? 

In  my  own  case  I  was  ready  to  respond  to  these  ques- 
tions with  good  disposition  and  intention,  but  it  was  impos- 
sible for  me  to  base  my  response  upon  the  assurance  or 
expectancy  of  long-continued  working  strength.  This  fact 
precluded  the  possibility  of  a  working  programme.  There 
were  congenial  subjects  which  invited  careful  and  somewhat 
protracted  investigation,  but  I  could  give  myself  no  prom- 
ise of  any  completed  result.  The  limitations  of  health  pre- 
scribed the  range  of  my  work  in  my  study.  There  were  two 
pieces  of  literary  work  at  hand  that  called  for  nothing  more 
than  editorial  revision.  The  first  was  the  collection  of  va- 
rious public  addresses  that  seemed  to  have  some  permanent 
value,  growing  out  of  the  occasions  which  called  them  forth, 
or  the  subjects  which  came  under  discussion,  making  up 
the  volume  already  referred  to  under  the  title  "Public- 
Mindedness."  The  second  was  a  collection  of  formal  but 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    419 

intimate  addresses  given  in  the  course  of  my  official  con- 
tact with  the  students  of  the  College  and  associated  with 
Rollins  Chapel  or  Webster  Hall,  making  the  volume  al- 
ready referred  to  under  the  title  "Personal  Power."  The 
former  book  answered  its  purpose  as  a  repository  of  "oc- 
casional "  addresses,  and  when  the  edition  was  exhausted, 
passed  out  of  print.  The  latter  has  had  a  continuous  sale, 
still  following  the  successive  college  generations. 

The  only  new  work  which  I  attempted  at  this  time  was 
the  preparation  of  a  monograph  on  "The  Function  of  the 
Church  in  Modern  Society  "  —  one  of  a  series  on  Modern 
Religious  Problems,  under  the  editorship  of  Dr.  Ambrose 
W.  Vernon,  published  by  Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  and 
later  transferred  to  the  Pilgrim  Press. 

In  1911  my  college  class,  known  in  its  day  from  its  war- 
time associations  as  the  "Roys  of  '61,"  held  its  fiftieth  re- 
union. Out  of  sixty-six  who  graduated,  twenty-three  were 
living,  twelve  of  whom  were  present  at  the  reunion.  I  had 
the  very  great  pleasure  of  spending  the  leisure  hours  of 
Commencement  with  them,  of  presenting  them  to  President 
Nichols,  and  of  greeting  them  at  my  table  for  an  evening  of 
"good  talk."  I  noticed  that  some  of  the  men  had  grown 
rather  abstemious  in  their  diet,  and  that  the  hour  of  re- 
tirement had  been  moved  back  perceptibly,  but  otherwise 
it  was  the  same  as  of  old,  except  for  the  drawing  a  little 
closer  together.  The  intervening  years  had  obliterated  all 
possible  lines  of  difference,  and  out  of  varied  experiences  in 
life  had  brought  us  all  to  essentially  one  view  of  life  itself. 
It  was  an  occasion  of  good  cheer  touched  with  the  humor 
of  the  seasoned  wits  of  our  number,  and  enriched  with  the 
reminders  of  things  well  worth  remembering  which  had 
been  said  and  done  by  the  men  of  the  class. 


42o  MY  GENERATION 

This  eddy  in  the  current  of  the  college  life  was  also  a 
pleasing  reminder  of  my  changed  relation  to  the  College. 
It  is  no  strain  upon  the  original  meaning  of  the  prefix  in 
the  title  of  ex-president  to  say  that  the  "ex"  means  out  of 
it,  a  meaning  not  limited  to  its  application  to  time,  nor  yet 
changed  in  its  scope  when  by  the  courtesy  of  the  ruling  au- 
thorities it  is  changed  to  the  affix  of  "emeritus."  I  had  al- 
ways entertained  this  view  of  the  honorable  obligation  of 
withdrawing  from  college  affairs  which  should  follow  an  ex- 
ecutive officer  into  retirement,  and  was  supported  in  it  by 
the  most  admirable  behavior  of  my  predecessor,  ex-Presi- 
dent Bartlett.  I  had  so  announced  my  view  in  the  closing 
words  of  my  report  to  the  alumni  at  the  end  of  my  admin- 
istration. Referring  to  their  responsiveness  to  my  plans  for 
the  College  I  said  to  them: 

I  can  ask  for  my  successor  nothing  more  and  nothing  less  than 
the  continuance  of  this  spirit.  I  go  further  and  suggest  to  you 
as  alumni,  that  the  most  encouraging  expression  of  this  spirit 
which  you  can  give  to  him  is  the  assurance  that  you  allow  and 
expect  on  his  part  perfect  freedom  of  initiative.  The  problems 
now  before  the  College  are  not  those  of  reconstruction  and  ex- 
pansion. Whenever  the  new  issues  are  defined,  and  the  policy 
designed  to  meet  them  is  set  forth,  the  timely  and  effective  ways 
of  cooperation  will  disclose  themselves.  I  am  confident  that  the 
graduates  of  Dartmouth  will  not  overlook  or  neglect  the  greater 
opportunities  which  lie  in  the  immediate  future  of  the  College. 

And  now  that  my  turn  had  come  to  put  this  view  into 
practice,  I  found  the  practice  not  a  duty,  but  a  pleasure, 
made  doubly  pleasing  by  the  cordial  personal  relations 
with  Dr.  Nichols,  and  by  my  interest  as  an  alumnus  in  his 
plans  for  the  College.  It  was  very  gratifying  to  me  to 
see  the  heartiness  and  steadiness  of  the  support  given  by 
the  alumni  and  constituency  of  the  College  to  President 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    421 

Nichols.  His  resignation  after  seven  years,  in  the  midst  of 
successful  service,  to  resume  his  professional  work,  was  a 
surprise  to  me.  I  had  not  known  the  strength  of  the  un- 
dertow which  had  been  steadily  drawing  him  back  into 
the  deeper  waters  of  scientific  research.  His  return  to  his 
earlier  work  was  a  conspicuous  illustration  of  the  greater 
hold  which  the  special  has  upon  some  men  above  the 
general.  Twice  already  in  the  history  of  Dartmouth  its 
presidents  had  resigned  to  return  to  the  profession. 

It  was  to  be  assumed  from  my  intimate  relations  with 
Secretary  Hopkins  that  I  should  be  peculiarly  interested 
in  the  course  of  his  administration  when  he  was  called  to 
the  presidency.  I  have  been  much  more  than  interested. 
President  Hopkins  was  confronted  on  his  entrance  upon 
his  administration  with  those  serious  though  general  prob- 
lems which  had  been  already  created  by  the  War.  Within  a 
year  the  country  itself  was  at  war  and  the  colleges  became 
directly  involved  in  it;  at  first,  through  their  voluntary 
response  to  the  call  of  the  Government;  later,  through  their 
militarization.  As  I  have  followed  the  course  of  President 
Hopkins  in  these  circumstances,  I  do  not  know  whether  he 
is  entitled  to  greater  respect  for  the  loyalty  of  his  personal 
service  to  the  government  or  for  the  sagacity  of  his  man- 
agement of  the  College  —  the  boldness  of  his  financial 
plans,  the  firmness  of  his  adherence  on  behalf  of  the  College 
to  its  educational  standards.  Many  tests  of  educational 
leadership  now  await  the  presidents  of  our  colleges,  but 
the  tests  already  made  in  the  administration  of  President 
Hopkins  give  reason  for  confident  assurance  respecting  the 
future  of  Dartmouth. 

The  course  of  events  in  the  political  world  in  1912 
brought  me  back  to  a  renewed  interest  in  social  questions, 


422  MY  GENERATION 

and  led  me  to  take  further  part  in  the  discussion  of  the  prin- 
ciples and  methods  of  social  progress.  In  the  national  cam- 
paign of  that  year  many  of  the  active  supporters  of  the  gen- 
eral progressive  movement  urged  the  organization  of  the 
movement  into  a  political  party.  To  this  purpose  I  was 
definitely  and  seriously  opposed.  I  saw  no  more  reason 
for  this  course  than  there  was  for  the  organization  of  the 
progressive  movement  in  theology  and  religion  into  a  new 
sect.  Such  a  course  in  either  case  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  nar- 
rowing and  belittling  process,  fraught  in  the  case  of  the 
venture  into  the  field  of  "  practical  politics  "  with  all  the 
dangers  and  distractions  inherent  in  this  kind  of  politics. 
My  objection  increased  as  I  saw  the  attitude  of  so  consid- 
erable a  number  of  the  Progressives  toward  Mr.  Roose- 
velt. The  singular  obsession  of  mind  in  regard  to  him 
seemed  to  me  to  lead  inevitably  to  an  unworthy  use  of  his 
splendid  personality,  even  with  his  sanction,  and  to  a  con- 
sequent perversion  of  the  cause  itself  from  progressivism 
to  Rooseveltism.  The  later  action  of  Mr.  Roosevelt  in  de- 
clining to  perpetuate  the  "Progressive  Party"  organiza- 
tion, accompanied  by  his  return  to  the  Republican  Party 
where  his  influence  was  much  needed,  brought  back  his 
personality  to  its  normal  use,  a  use  to  be  greatly  enhanced 
during  the  War  by  the  call  upon  his  patriotism.  It  was 
also  a  great  satisfaction  to  the  friends  of  Mr.  Roosevelt 
and  Mr.  Taft  that  the  unnatural  estrangement,  caused  so 
largely  by  ill-advised  partisans,  should  have  been  brought 
to  an  end  before  the  death  of  Mr.  Roosevelt,  and  the  old- 
time  friendship  so  completely  restored. 

My  protest,  occasioned  by  the  request  of  a  weekly  jour- 
nal for  the  opinion  of  some  persons  in  its  constituency  on  the 
political  situation,  called  out  many  replies  both  in  private 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    423 

and  in  public,  some  in  anger,  some  in  grief.  This  effect  was 
to  have  been  expected  in  a  political  campaign,  and  required 
only  passing  attention,  except  in  the  case  of  some  personal 
friends  especially  among  younger  men.  But  the  situation 
itself  led  me  to  renewed  study  into  the  principles  and  meth- 
ods of  social  progress.  The  first  result  of  this  more  advanced 
study  was  an  "Atlantic"  article  (October,  1913)  on  "The 
Goal  of  Equality."  Relating  this  article  to  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Address  on  "The  New  Movement  from  Liberty  to 
Unity,"  I  acknowledged  the  arrest  of  this  movement  by  the 
incoming  of  a  new  and  more  intense  movement  toward 
equality,  the  result  in  large  degree  of  the  rapid  growth  of 
class  consciousness  in  the  ranks  of  labor.  I  sought  to  inter- 
pret the  meaning  of  this  bold  interruption  by  pointing  out 
the  failure  of  political  liberty  to  secure  the  economic  qual- 
ity demanded.  Liberty  and  equality,  as  I  pointed  out,  are 
concerned  with  different  objects,  for  under  present  condi- 
tions they  operate  within  different  spheres  —  the  political 
and  the  economic.  "What,"  I  asked,  "is  the  essential  dis- 
tinction between  the  political  world  of  yesterday,  from 
which  we  have  inherited  many  unfinished  tasks,  and  the 
economic  world  of  to-day,  which  is  confronting  us  with  new 
tasks  which  are  as  yet  mostly  in  the  form  of  problems?" 
My  answer  was  that  the  ruling  conception  of  the  political 
world  was,  and  is,  the  conception  of  rights.  The  ruling  con- 
ception of  the  economic  world  is  the  conception  of  values. 
Political  progress  toward  equality — it  has  been  very  great 
— has  come  about  through  the  recognition  of  rights.  Eco- 
nomic progress  toward  equality,  if  it  is  to  be  equally  marked, 
must  come  about  through  a  like  recognition  of  values. 

In  this  distinction  between  rights  and  values  [I  went  on  to 
say]  we  have  the  reason  of  the  present  advanced  demand  for 


424  MY  GENERATION 

equality.  The  kind  of  equality  now  demanded  is  based  not  so 
much  on  the  sense  of  rights  as  on  the  sense  of  values.  The  cause 
of  equality  inherits  through  democracy  the  right  of  equal  op- 
portunity. It  is  still  the  function  of  political  liberty  to  guard 
the  right.  But  new  economic  conditions  call  for  an  equality 
estimated  in  terms  of  value  according  to  service  rendered.  My 
contention  is  that  the  satisfaction  of  this  particular  demand  lies 
outside  the  province  of  politics,  unless  we  accept  the  tenets  of 
political  socialism.  The  logic  of  the  political  invasion  of  the  eco- 
nomic world,  beyond  the  endeavor  to  guarantee  equality  of  op- 
portunity, is  the  socialistic  state.  .  .  . 

The  strike,  for  example,  is  a  legitimate  economic  weapon;  as  a 
political  threat  it  is  utterly  illegitimate.  Carried  over  into  poli- 
tics, a  strike  becomes  a  revolution.  Revolutionary  methods  have 
no  justification  except  in  the  vindication  of  human  rights.  They 
have  no  place  in  the  settlement  of  economic  values.  Should  they 
be  adopted  by  organized  labor  they  would  make  organized 
labor  a  political  outlaw. 

Another  article  followed  in  due  time  ("Atlantic,"  Sep- 
tember, 1915)  of  a  more  comprehensive  character  on  "The 
Progress  of  the  Social  Conscience."  After  discriminating 
between  the  action  of  the  social  conscience  and  moral 
agencies  with  which  it  is  often  confounded,  I  said  that  its 
progress  had  been  best  reflected  by  the  changes  which  it 
had  brought  about  in  public  opinion,  —  the  power  which 
brings  things  to  pass  in  a  democracy.  In  confirmation  of 
this  statement,  its  progress  was  traced  in  the  field  of  philan- 
thropy, in  the  advance  from  charity  to  justice;  in  legisla- 
tion, in  the  definiteness  and  persistence  of  the  struggle 
with  monopoly;  in  politics,  in  the  new  "sense  of  the  State," 
indicated  by  the  venture  into  "practical  politics"  even 
though  in  some  respects  a  false  move;  in  practical  eco- 
nomics, in  the  sympathetic  and  determined  effort  to  hu- 
manize industrialism;  and  in  the  field  of  social  and  civic 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    425 

advancement,  in  the  growing  openness  of  mind  toward  the 
entrance  of  woman  into  civic  life. 

[In  the  original  draft  of  this  article,  the  moral  determi- 
nation evinced  in  the  prohibition  movement  was  cited  in 
evidence  of  the  progress  of  the  social  conscience,  but  this 
section  was  withdrawn  in  view  of  the  excessive  length  of 
the  article.  Recently  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of  the 
most  sane  and  effective  advocates  of  prohibition  in  which 
he  wrote,  "You  taught  me  to  respect  prohibition."  This 
word  has  always  interpreted,  to  my  mind,  the  necessary 
attitude  of  society  to  this  method  of  temperance  reform, 
if  it  is  to  be  successful.  There  are  unlikeable  aspects  of 
prohibition  which  society  cannot  be  expected  to  ignore. 
Government  is  put  to  a  heavy  strain  because  of  them  in 
the  administration  of  prohibitory  laws.  Society  can  learn 
to  respect  prohibition  only  as  it  reaches  the  stage  of  self- 
respect  in  its  treatment  of  the  liquor  problem.  When 
it  has  reached  this  stage  and  has  determined  to  free  the 
nation  from  the  mortgage  of  the  liquor  traffic  upon  the 
national  resources  and  the  national  vitality,  its  respect  for 
prohibition  as  the  only  adequate  means  of  accomplishing 
this  result  takes  the  place  of  former  dislikes  and  preju- 
dices. The  analogy  at  this  point  between  prohibition  and 
conscription  is  evident.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
unpopular  or  even  revolting  to  many  minds  at  the  first 
than  the  substitution  of  the  draft  for  enlistment.  The 
present  estimation  of  the  draft  accords  with  the  result 
effected  by  it.  We  now  see  it  in  the  light  of  its  adequacy. 
Similarly  the  estimate  of  prohibition  is  changing,  now  that 
it  has  received  the  moral  support  of  the  nation.  This  new 
aspect  is  brought  out  in  very  striking  terms  in  the  leading 
editorial  of  the  London  "Spectator"  under  date  of  January 


426  MY  GENERATION 

25, 1919:  "The  decision  of  more  than  three  quarters  of  the 
States  in  America  to  prohibit  intoxicating  drink  is  a  politi- 
cal and  industrial  portent  which  no  thinking  person  can 
disregard.  .  .  .  The  one  thing  that  is  certain  is  that  the 
American  portent  cannot  safely  be  laughed  away  as  the 
act  of  a  few  social  experimenters  and  high-souled  cranks. 
Right  or  wrong,  practicable  or  impracticable,  it  is  the  con- 
sidered word  of  a  great  nation."] 

A  somewhat  detached  article  written  on  the  occasion 
of  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  South  End  (Andover) 
House  entitled  "Twenty-five  Years  in  Residence"  ("At- 
lantic," May,  1917),  set  forth  the  underlying  principle  of 
the  social  settlements,  now  numbering  over  five  hundred, 
and  the  contribution  which  they  had  made  to  social  and 
civic  progress. 

The  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Address,  and  the  "Atlantic"  arti- 
cles, taken  in  connection  with  an  earlier  paper  in  criticism 
of  Mr.  Carnegie's  "Gospel  of  Wealth"  ("Andover  Re- 
view," June,  1891),  give  whatever  may  have  been  distinc- 
tive in  my  advocacy  of  the  new  social  order.  Upon  reflec- 
tion, I  renew  the  emphasis  placed  upon  the  relation  of 
rights  and  values  in  a  democracy.  I  am  convinced  that  any 
political  reconstructions  in  the  interest  of  democracy  which 
may  follow  the  War,  must  be  based  upon  a  revaluation  of 
social  classes.  Such  an  outcome  is  foreshadowed  in  the 
recognition  accorded  the  views  of  the  wiser  English  labor 
leaders.  A  full  recognition  of  the  new  values  to  the  State 
contributed  by  the  producing  classes,  will  do  very  much 
to  make  the  democracies  safe  from  within,  and  also  to 
enable  them  to  preserve  their  identity  in  the  chaos  of  po- 
litical ideals.  A  purely  socialistic  state,  according  to  any 
accurate  definitions  of  socialistic  authorities,  has  more 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    427 

affinity  with  the  Teutonic  militaristic  conception  of  the 
State  than  with  the  democratic  conception  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  democracies. 

With  the  advent  of  the  War,  the  social  question  and  all 
others  of  importance  gave  way  before  the  supreme  question 
of  the  hour.  I  refer  to  the  War  as  a  question  advisedly. 
The  mind  of  the  world  suddenly  became  one  vast  interro- 
gation. The  order  of  questioning  as  it  emerged  from  the 
prevailing  confusion  was  first,  What  was  the  occasion  of 
the  War,  then,  What  was  its  cause?  finally,  What  was  its 
meaning?  I  have  never  felt  that  sufficient  consideration 
was  given  at  the  time  or  later  to  the  terrible  tragedy  at 
Serajevo  which  was  the  initial  event.  The  reason,  however, 
for  this  lack  of  consideration  was  evident.  While  the  world 
saw  that  the  occasion  belonged  within  the  racial  conditions 
of  the  Austrian  Empire  and  was  disposed  to  a  certain 
sympathy  toward  Austria,  it  soon  saw  with  unmistakable 
clearness  that  the  instigating  and  persistent  cause  was  to 
be  traced  to  Germany.  But  still  the  questions  remained  — ■ 
What  did  the  War  mean?  What  did  it  mean  to  Germany? 
What  was  the  real  content  of  the  mind  of  Germany  in 
which  the  War  was  conceived  and  by  which  it  was  nour- 
ished and  maintained?  In  attempting  to  find  sufficient  an- 
swers to  these  questions,  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  must  go 
beneath  the  ordinary  understanding  of  militarism,  the  term 
which  had  become  the  generally  accepted  explanation  of 
the  War.  Militarism  was  the  phenomenal  aspect,  sudden 
and  startling  in  its  appearance,  but  dangerous  because  it 
meant  in  the  last  analysis  not  so  much  the  assertion  or 
over-assertion  of  military  power,  as  the  assumption  of 
moral  prerogative.  Beneath  armaments  and  organization 
lay  the  political  theory  upon  which  militarism  rested  and 
from  which  it  drew  its  life  —  the  State  is  power. 


428  MY  GENERATION 

It  was  this  view  of  the  War  which  seemed  to  accord  with 
the  underlying  facts  and  to  give  to  the  War  its  real  mean- 
ing. It  was  in  reality  more  distinctly  an  ethical  than  a  mil- 
itary war.  It  surpassed  other  wars  in  the  degree  of  its 
military  organization  and  equipment;  it  differed  from  other 
wars  in  the  new  moral  conception  of  the  State  which  it 
thrust  upon  the  world.  Under  the  impulse  of  this  sense 
of  the  meaning  of  the  War,  I  wrote  an  article  on  its  ethi- 
cal significance  —  "The  Ethical  Challenge  of  the  War" 
("Atlantic,"  June,  1915),  from  which  I  take  the  following 
extract  as  showing  its  scope: 

Whatever  the  War  may  or  may  not  declare  in  regard  to  other 
matters,  it  calls  the  attention  of  the  civilized  world  to  the  new 
moral  valuation  which  it  puts  upon  the  power  of  the  State. 
Tracing  the  war  back  to  the  teachings  in  which  it  had  its  origin, 
we  find  in  them  the  constant  idealization  of  power,  at  times  al- 
most the  deification  of  it.  The  most  authoritative  teachings  have 
been  only  an  ampler  statement  of  the  Machiavellian  axiom  that 
the  State  is  power.  "The  highest  moral  duty  of  the  State  is  to 
increase  its  power."  "War  is  the  mighty  continuation  of  poli- 
tics." "Of  all  political  sins,  that  of  weakness  is  the  most  repre- 
hensible and  the  most  contemptible;  it  is  in  politics  the  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost."  It  will  give  a  proper  background  to 
these  teachings  to  have  in  mind  Milton's  conception  of  the  State : 
"A  nation  ought  to  be  but  as  one  huge  Christian  personage,  one 
mighty  growth  or  stature  of  an  honest  man,  as  big  and  compact 
in  virtue  as  in  body,  for  look,  what  the  ground  and  causes  are 
of  single  happiness  to  one  man,  the  same  ye  shall  find  them  to 
be  to  a  whole  State." 

The  question  of  the  essential  morality  of  power  when  em- 
bodied in  the  State,  which  is  thrust  upon  us  as  the  ethical  chal- 
lenge of  the  War,  is  the  most  serious  public  question  which  we 
have  to  face.  Coming  before  us  as  a  challenge,  it  calls  us  back  to 
things  fundamental,  both  in  politics  and  in  religion.  To  reverse 
in  part  Mr.  Cleveland's  saying,  we  find  ourselves  confronted, 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    429 

not  so  much  by  a  condition,  appalling  as  that  is  in  which  all 
nations  are  now  involved,  as  by  a  theory  which  is  likely  to  out- 
live the  War,  whatever  may  be  its  fortune,  and  to  present  itself 
to  each  nation  for  definition.  It  is  a  theory  which  has  a  most  in- 
sidious fascination.  There  is  no  allurement  so  great  when  the 
mind  turns  to  affairs  of  state  as  the  allurement  of  power.  Clothe 
the  bare  conception  of  power  with  the  moral  sanctities  and  it 
becomes  not  only  alluring,  but  commanding.  In  this  form  it 
presents  itself  to  us,  and  at  a  time  of  great  doubt  and  perplexity 
in  regard  to  subjects  but  lately  in  the  category  of  commonplace 
realities  —  democracy,  patriotism,  and  religion.  Speaking  with 
the  assurance,  if  not  with  the  audacity,  of  the  half-truth,  it  says 
to  us,  Your  democracy,  your  patriotism,  your  religion  are  obso- 
lete. They  are  all  guilty  of  inadequacy.  If  you  would  keep  your 
place  in  the  modern  world,  you  must  recast  your  fundamental 
conceptions  of  the  State,  and  of  the  things  which  belong  to  it,  in 
terms  of  power,  and  reinvigorate  them  with  its  spirit. 

The  views  expressed  in  this  introductory  passage  and  in 
the  subsequent  discussion  now  seem  quite  commonplace, 
but  as  put  forth  at  the  beginning  of  the  War,  with  the  em- 
phasis which  they  placed  on  its  ethical  character,  they 
elicited  much  approval  from  men  whose  opinion  I  greatly 
valued.  Among  the  letters  received  directly  or  through  the 
office  of  the  "Atlantic,"  I  quote  from  two  which  were  of 
special  interest  to  me  —  one  from  a  well-known  English- 
man, for  many  years  Rector  of  St.  George's  Church,  New 
York,  the  other  of  a  more  personal  character  from  one  of 
the  Judges  of  the  United  States  District  Court. 

Savin  Hill,  Ridgefield,  Conn. 
The  Editor, 

Atlantic  Monthly 
Dear  Sir, 

Let  me  thank  you  for  your  part  in  giving  to  the  public  the 
quite  masterly  article  by  Mr.  Tucker,  "The  Ethical  Challenge 


43° 


MY  GENERATION 


of  the  Times."  I  have  read  widely  the  literature  of  the  war,  but 
this  article  seems  to  me  in  its  lucidity,  grasp,  and  supreme  moral 
force,  to  stand  almost  in  a  class  by  itself. 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  truly  yours 

William  S.  Rainsford 

United  States  District  Court 

New  York 

Judges'  Chambers 

May  30,  '15 

Dear  Doctor  Tucker, 

Yesterday's  mail  brought  me  the  last  "Atlantic."  To-day  I 
thank  you  with  real  earnestness  for  the  most  illuminating  and 
guiding  sermon,  speech,  or  thesis  as  yet  contributed  to  this  crisis 
in  world  history.  You  have  helped  me  —  at  all  events  —  to 
think;  a  task  which  to  most  of  us  seems  harder  as  years  lengthen. 
Very  sincerely  yours 

Charles  M.  Hough 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  follow  the  course  of  thought  into 
which  this  conception  of  the  War  led  as  certain  events  or 
incidents  seem  to  call  for  public  treatment.  I  note  the  title 
of  succeeding  articles  or  communications  called  out  by  the 
moral  trend  of  the  War,  and  indicate  by  brief  quotations 
the  scope  of  the  discussion. 

"  The  Crux  of  the  Peace  Problem  "  ("Atlantic  Monthly," 
April,  1916)  —  an  exposure  of  the  moral  inefficiency  of  the 
peace  movement  on  account  of  its  failure  to  become  iden- 
tified with  the  righteous  ends  of  the  War. 

The  problem  of  peace,  for  such  the  peace  movement  has  now 
become,  does  not  lie  in  the  conviction  of  its  impracticability, 
unless  it  be  deemed  morally  impracticable.  The  suggestion  of 
the  moral  impracticability  of  peace  seems  like  a  contradiction 
of  terms.  Nevertheless,  if  we  follow  it  but  a  little  way,  it  will  lead 
to  the  disquieting  discovery  of  a  very  strong  suspicion  in  the 
popular  mind  of  a  latent  selfishness  in  peace;  and  further,  after 
due  observation  and  reflection,  we  shall  be  brought,  I  think,  to 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    431 

see  that  the  very  crux  of  the  problem  of  peace  lies  in  the  difficulty 
of  eradicating  this  suspicion.  The  awful  immoralities  of  war,  so 
terribly  obvious,  are  offset  in  part  by  the  counteracting  effect  of 
the  impressive  displays  of  unselfishness. 

War,  in  itself  essentially  evil,  may  acquire  moral  character  as 
the  instrumentality  for  serving  a  righteous  cause.  Peace,  in  itself 
essentially  good,  may  lose  moral  character  from  the  failure  to 
identify  itself  with  a  righteous  cause  in  the  time  of  its  extremity. 
I  trace  the  popular  suspicion  of  a  latent  selfishness  in  peace 
to  its  undefined  and  indeterminate  attitude  in  so  many  cases 
toward  ends  outside  and  beyond  itself.  The  constant  insistence 
upon  peace  as  an  end  in  itself  is  to  be  deprecated.  If  we  are  to 
create  confidence  in  the  trustworthiness  of  peace  to  render  that 
sacrificial  service  which  is  at  times  rendered  so  effectively 
through  war,  it  must  be  made  to  wear  a  different  aspect  from 
that  which  it  now  presents  to  the  world. 

To  the  degree  in  which  we  fail  to  clothe  peace  with  moral 
power,  to  identify  it  with  the  objects  of  moral  concern,  to  make 
it  the  incentive  and  opportunity  for  sacrifice  and  heroism,  we 
leave  it  under  the  popular  imputation  of  selfishness.  I  follow 
out  the  danger  from  this  defect  in  our  advocacy  of  peace  into 
sufficient  detail  to  indicate  the  extent  of  the  popular  distrust, 
and  to  show  the  grounds  of  it. 

"  On  the  Control  of  Modern  Civilization  "  (the  last  chap- 
ter of  the  book  "The  New  Reservation  of  Time"  —  No- 
vember, 1916) — a  discussion  of  the  responsibility  of  a  given 
generation  for  the  course  of  civilization  within  its  limits, 
made  urgent  by  the  fact  that  no  generation  before  was 
ever  confronted  so  directly  with  the  danger  of  an  uncon- 
trolled civilization. 

Modern  civilization  has  been  by  distinction  a  civilization  of 
power.  Its  cultural  effects,  though  clear  and  distinct,  have  been 
secondary.  It  has  been  a  civilization  of  natural  forces,  of  physical 
laws,  of  mechanical  devices,  of  organization.  The  exponent  of 
its  power,  and  of  its  beneficence,  is  the  machine.  The  progress  of 


432  MY  GENERATION 

mechanical  invention  measures  the  advance  of  material  welfare. 
We  are  all  conscious  that  we  have  become  the  passive  benefici- 
aries, or  the  passive  instruments,  of  the  civilization  which  domi- 
nates our  lives. 

In  what  has  thus  come  to  be  the  habitual  reliance  upon  material 
power  we  have,  I  think,  the  explanation  of  the  otherwise  strange 
contradiction  in  the  experiences  of  the  modern  man;  on  the 
one  hand,  a  sense  of  power  rising  at  times  to  arrogance,  and  on 
the  other  hand,  a  sense  of  helplessness  involving  at  times  an 
abject  surrender  to  the  environment.  In  our  more  confident 
moods  we  vaunt  our  alliance  with  the  forces  of  nature,  but  not 
infrequently  we  are  made  to  feel  that  we  have  to  do  with  things 
which  are  irresistible  and  inevitable.  Something  of  this  sense  of 
the  irresistible  and  the  inevitable  has  come  over  us  in  the  ret- 
rospect of  the  causes,  the  agencies,  and  the  instrumentalities 
which  worked  together  toward  the  War.  We  see  the  steady, 
cumulative  power  of  the  material  forces  which  were  in  operation. 
The  retrospect  discloses  no  counteracting  human  agencies  at 
work  equal  to  the  task. 

The  War  has  ploughed  deep  into  the  life  of  individuals  as  well 
as  of  nations.  Many  of  the  questions  which  it  has  started  are  out 
of  reach  of  diplomacy  and  statesmanship.  The  complete  question 
is  not  the  reconstruction  of  Europe,  nor  yet  that  of  absolutism 
or  democracy.  There  is,  I  believe,  a  growing  sense  that  we  do  not 
reach  the  essential  issues  involved  till  we  come  into  conscious 
and  responsible  relation  to  the  civilization  which  allowed  the 
War  and  brought  it  to  so  great  magnitude.  Any  result,  commen- 
surate with  the  War,  must  consist  in  some  corresponding  change 
effected  in  the  spirit  and  temper  of  the  civilization  which  gave 
it  its  vitality  and  scope. 

"Not  Yet  in  the  Name  of  Religion"  ( "  Boston  Evening 
Transcript,"  August  29,  1917,  also  a  "  Dartmouth  College 
Reprint ")  —  in  reply  to  the  proposal  of  the  Pope  for  in- 
tervention in  the  interest  of  peace: 

To  find  the  true  and  sufficient  ground  for  the  world's  indict- 
ment of  Germany  we  must  go  back  to  that  ancient  formula  put 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    433 

forth  in  the  name  of  religion,  which  the  world  has  accepted  in 
its  inexorable  simplicity  as  the  code  of  national  as  well  as  in- 
dividual righteousness :  "  It  hath  been  showed  thee,  O  Man,  what 
is  good,  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  do  justly, 
to  love  mercy  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God."  This  code 
antedates  Christianity.  What  article  of  the  code  did  Christ 
repeal,  or  under  what  circumstances  was  the  suspension  of 
it  wholly  or  in  part  to  be  allowed,  or  the  violation  of  it  to  be 
condoned? 

Germany,  as  the  world  knows,  has  persistently  violated  every 
article  of  the  code.  What  is  of  greater  present  significance,  the 
German  autocracy  has  openly  repealed  the  code  itself.  It  has 
set  up  the  worship  of  a  new  God,  the  God  of  Power,  in  whose 
name  and  by  whose  authority  the  virtues  of  justice,  mercy,  and 
humility  are  to  be  replaced  by  virtues  better  adapted  to  the 
exigencies  of  war.  In  the  event  of  passing  from  war  to  diplo- 
macy, we  are  asked  to  deal,  on  the  ambiguous  "principle  of 
entire  and  reciprocal  condonation,"  with  the  mind  of  a  nation 
indoctrinated  in  the  new  code  of  national  righteousness.  In 
view  of  this  proposal,  that  requirement  of  the  ancient  code 
which  had  seemed  least  pertinent  to  present  conditions  is 
seen  to  be  highly  important.  What  is  to  be  the  nature  of  the 
diplomatic  approach  to  a  nation  which  has  divested  itself  of 
humility  and  is  allowed  to  remain  of  unhumbled  mind?  It  be- 
comes necessary  to  have  a  right  understanding  at  this  point 
of  the  national  mind  of  Germany,  lest  we  find  that  it  offers  a 
greater  barrier  to  an  honorable  and  lasting  peace  than  German 
arms. 

The  untimeliness  of  the  proposed  intervention  was  urged 
from  the  following  considerations  —  first,  increasing  evi- 
dences of  the  unhumbled  mind  of  Germany  as  seen  in  the 
spread  of  the  cult  of  world  dominion  under  the  guise  of 
Pan-Germanism;  second,  the  absence  of  any  clear  insist- 
ence upon  reparation  in  the  proposed  "intervention"; 
third,  the  greater  timeliness  of  the  entrance  of  the  United 


434  MY  GENERATION 

States  into  the  War  as  the  most  effective  of  all  possible 
peace  movements. 

[The  question  of  the  mind  of  Germany  still  remains,  un- 
der the  marvelous  change  of  conditions,  the  most  anxious 
question  of  the  Allies.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  not  displeasing 
to  see  the  earnestness  of  Germany  in  its  efforts  toward  the 
reconstruction  of  the  State  on  a  more  democratic  basis.  As 
I  said  in  the  article,  "no  sane  man  desires  the  humiliation 
of  Germany."  It  is  better  for  the  world  that  Germany 
should  be  allowed  to  regain  a  place  in  the  family  of  respon- 
sible nations  than  be  forced  to  remain  in  a  state  of  perma- 
nent outlawry.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  much  unwel- 
come doubt  about  the  attitude  of  Germany  toward  the 
vital  matter  of  reparation.  As  I  also  said,  "Reparation  is 
the  moral  issue  of  the  War,  the  moral  condition  of  peace." 
There  can  be  no  moral  conclusion  of  the  War  until  Ger- 
many makes  substantial  amend  for  the  terrible  and  wanton 
desolation  of  the  War,  and  until  she  acknowledges  the  hei- 
housness  of  incorporating  into  the  practices  of  war  the 
awful  doctrine  of  atrocity  and  f rightfulness.  Possibly  there 
is  a  ray  of  hope  at  this  point  in  the  exclamation  of  a  Ger- 
man soldier,  quoted  with  apparent  approval  by  Maximilian 
of  Raden,  on  the  grounds  of  the  feeling  of  the  world  toward 
Germany,  "Heaven  preserve  Germany  from  emerging 
from  this  War  without  a  character."] 

To  these  public  utterances  I  add  the  following  communi- 
cation to  the  "New  York  Times"  of  June  13,  1918,  as 
touching  upon  a  subject  which  has  since  become  a  matter 
of  much  discussion  and  of  divided  opinion,  involving  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  criticism  of  the  position  here  taken : 

To  the  Editor  of  The  New  York  Times:  I  assume  that  all  loyal 
Americans  are  in  sympathy  with  the  motives  which  governed 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    435 

the  Board  of  Education  in  the  City  of  New  York  in  its  recent 
ruling  regarding  further  instruction  in  German  in  the  public 
schools  of  the  city,  but  I  question  if  the  reasons  given  for  its 
action  are  such  as  will  commend  it  for  adoption  as  a  national 
policy.  The  intellectual  task  which  the  nation  has  set  for  the 
generation  now  in  the  public  schools  is  to  combat  German  ideas, 
a  far  more  serious  business  than  to  boycott  them.  This  contro- 
verting of  Germany  within  the  whole  field  of  the  political  morali- 
ties is  the  task  to  which  the  President  has  summoned  the  nation 
at  large,  not  simply  for  national  defense,  but  also  for  aggressive 
aid  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed  nationalities. 

But  the  first  step  in  controverting  Germany  is  to  know  Ger- 
many. It  is  a  bad  beginning  to  deprive  the  coming  generation  of 
the  ready  knowledge  of  the  rudiments  of  the  German  language. 
The  answer  of  Germany  to  this  "attempt  to  shake  the  morale  of 
the  German  people  by  causing  them  to  realize  that  this  great 
city  was  unwilling  to  endure  longer  their  language,  and  that  it 
desired  to  break  off  thus  more  completely  the  possibility  of  inti- 
mate relations  with  them  through  the  medium  of  language" 
will  be,  if  consistent  with  past  methods,  to  redouble  the  study 
of  English  in  the  German  schools.  Germany  has  never  yet  made 
the  mistake  of  committing  its  propaganda  to  even  the  least  con- 
spicuous of  its  subjects  without  furnishing  adequate  and  timely 
equipment. 

Allowing  the  proper  reservation  of  diplomacy  and  of  political 
ethics  to  the  experts,  elsewhere,  in  trade,  in  travel,  in  the  com- 
mon intercourse  of  men  the  world  over,  the  impending  combat 
is  to  be  one  in  which  any  man  may  take  his  part  according  to 
his  trained  intelligence.  Unintelligent  patriotism  can  evidently 
have  little  part  in  this  field  of  patriotic  endeavor.  I  deprecate 
any  superficiality,  or  narrowness,  or  timorousness,  or  weakness 
of  any  sort  in  preparing  the  generation  now  in  the  schools  for 
the  really  militant  service  which  awaits  it  in  the  cause  of  inter- 
national as  well  as  of  national  righteousness.  We  tried  to  ignore 
the  challenge  of  German  Militarism.  The  result  was  national 
unpreparedness.  Have  we  any  excuse  for  a  like  unprepared- 
ness  in  meeting  the  challenge  of  German  Kultur? 

William  Jewett  Tucker 


436  MY  GENERATION 

This  criticism  was  directed  against  the  proposed  method 
of  carrying  on  the  intellectual  combat  with  Germany.  If  we 
are  to  combat  German  ideas  somebody  must  know  Ger- 
man. To  put  this  task  altogether  upon  the  colleges,  at  least 
in  the  elementary  stages,  would  be  undemocratic.  To  as- 
sume that  such  knowledge  is  unnecessary  is  simply  a  rever- 
sion to  a  state  of  mind  corresponding  to  that  which  led  so 
many  to  regard  the  militia  of  the  country  as  equivalent  to 
an  army. 

I  can  understand  that  there  may  be  need  of  great  modi- 
fications in  the  teaching  of  German  in  the  public  schools; 
I  can  understand  that  there  may  have  been  local  reasons 
in  some  cities  which  justified  the  suspension  of  the  teaching 
of  German  during  the  War;  but  to  urge  the  elimination  of 
German  from  schools  and  colleges  as  a  definite  national 
policy  is,  in  my  view,  to  urge  a  retreat  rather  than  an 
advance,  and  is  thereby  sure,  if  the  policy  is  adopted,  to 
affect  the  national  morale.  Without  doubt  the  movement 
is  well  under  way.  It  has  entered  the  stage  of  popular  enthu- 
siasm and  popular  satisfaction,  the  satisfaction  which  grows 
out  of  the  feeling  that  something  of  consequence  is  actu- 
ally being  done.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  it  has  yet  to  encoun- 
ter those  liabilities  which  marked  the  later  stages  of  the 
"Know-Nothing"  movement  of  two  generations  ago  as  it 
ran  its  rapid  and  sweeping  career  under  the  guise  of  super- 
Americanism. 

As  an  example  of  sane  and  effective  Americanism,  the 
specific  work  in  Americanization  which  is  going  on  in  many 
parts  of  the  country  cannot  be  too  strongly  endorsed.  I 
quote  from  the  programme  of  the  New  Hampshire  Com- 
mittee, the  Honorable  Frank  S.  Streeter,  Chairman,  the 
following  statement  of  the  object  of  the  organization  — 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    437 

"that  all  our  citizens  of  whatever  race  should  be  able  to 
converse  and  do  business  together  in  one  common  lan- 
guage is  vitally  essential  for  good  citizenship  and  for  the 
well-being  and  the  preservation  of  a  form  of  government 
like  ours,  the  security  of  whose  foundations  rest  solely  on 
the  sound  public  opinion  of  the  electorate."  As  an  essen- 
tial means  of  carrying  out  this  object  the  demand  is  made 
that  all  elementary  instruction  in  the  private  as  well  as 
public  schools  of  the  State  be  carried  on  exclusively  in  the 
English  language. 

Here  is  something  positive  and  constructive,  of  universal 
application  and  of  permanent  national  value.  In  due  time 
there  may  be  fitly  added  to  this  demand  the  requirement 
of  compulsory  training  in  those  principles  and  methods  of 
the  Government  of  the  United  States  which  have  given  it 
its  distinctive  place  among  the  nations,  and  which  have 
drawn  to  our  shores  so  large  a  part  of  the  non-English  im- 
migration of  the  past  century.  It  is  becoming  increasingly 
and  painfully  evident  that  the  insidious  propaganda  which 
is  now  undermining  democracy  abroad,  is  being  introduced 
through  various  classes  of  our  alien  population  into  this 
country.  The  process  of  Americanization  makes  far-reach- 
ing demands  upon  our  system  of  national  education,  and 
also  calls  for  the  most  careful  reconsideration  of  the  prin- 
ciples and  methods  of  industrialism.  It  is  really  a  twofold 
task  —  to  train  our  alien  population  in  citizenship,  and  to 
train  ourselves  to  the  new  and  larger  meaning  of  industri- 
alism. 

It  is  also  to  be  noted  in  the  further  statement  of  the 
Committee  that  a  foreign  language  (presumably  without 
discrimination)  may  be  taught  in  the  elementary  schools, 
provided  the  previous  requirement  in  regard  to  instruction 


438  MY  GENERATION 

in  the  English  language  is  fully  complied  with.  This  state- 
ment, though  less  urgent,  is  in  harmony  with  the  action  of 
the  ministerial  boards  of  education  in  France  and  England 
in  the  public  schools  of  those  countries.  The  reports  of  the 
Ministers  of  Public  Education  in  France  and  England, 
furnished  in  response  to  the  request  of  the  Commissioner 
of  Public  Education  in  this  country,  contain  much  of  vital 
importance  in  their  bearing  upon  the  question  at  issue. 
These  ministries  positively  refuse  to  eliminate  the  study 
of  German  from  the  public  schools,  having  in  mind  alike 
the  danger  from  German  competition  in  business  and  from 
German  propaganda.  The  assertion  at  this  time  by  the 
United  States  of  any  kind  of  provincialism  as  a  national 
policy  would  be  entirely  out  of  harmony  with  the  policy  of 
our  Allies,  and  strangely  inconsistent  with  our  own  action 
in  assuming  to  lead  the  way  toward  a  League  of  Nations 
of  world-wide  possibilities. 

To  complete  the  statement  of  views  which  I  have  pub- 
licly expressed  in  regard  to  events  attending  and  following 
the  War,  I  insert  with  slight  revision  the  letter  written  to 
the  Dartmouth  Alumni  of  Boston  at  their  last  annual 
meeting,  in  which  I  attempt  to  characterize  that  attitude 
toward  participation  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  which  I 
conceived  to  be  most  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  and 
policy  that  determined  the  history  of  the  College. 

Occom  Ridge,  Hanover,  N.H. 
March  2,  1919 
Edwin  A.  Bayley,  Esq., 

President  of  Dartmouth  Alumni  Association  of  Boston 
My  dear  Mr.  Bayley, 

I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  the  programme  which  you 
arranged  for  the  present  Dartmouth  Dinner,  in  which  you  kindly 
invite  me  to  have  a  part.  My  attention  was  specially  arrested 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    439 

by  your  injunction,  following  the  impressive  list  of  the  auto- 
graphs of  Dartmouth  men  in  the  service  abroad,  that  we  not 
only  preserve  the  traditions  of  the  College,  but  that  we  also 
"keep  the  faith."  In  asking  myself  just  what  the  "faith"  of 
Dartmouth  is,  in  the  keeping  of  which  we  may  serve  the  nation 
in  the  present  juncture  of  affairs,  my  mind  reverted  to  a  crum- 
pled sheet  of  paper  that  had  been  lying  for  some  years  in  safe- 
keeping in  my  desk  —  the  original  manuscript  copy,  partly 
in  ink  and  partly  in  pencil,  of  Richard  Hovey's  ode  to  the 
country  on  occasion  of  its  venture  into  the  world  through  the 
Spanish  War.  The  ode  bears,  as  you  will  recall,  the  striking  title 
of  "  ?7nmanifest  Destiny,"  and  is  in  itself  at  once  a  rebuke  to  that 
national  conceit  which  was  then  finding  expression  in  the  popular 
doctrine  of  "manifest  destiny,"  and  a  plea  for  faith  in  the  as  yet 
"  unmanifest  destiny  "  of  the  country.  I  quote  the  closing  lines  — 

"There  is  a  Hand  that  binds  our  deeds 
To  mightier  issues  than  we  planned; 
Each  son  that  triumphs,  each  that  bleeds, 
My  Country,  serves  its  dark  command. 

"  I  do  not  know  beneath  what  sky, 
Or  on  what  seas  shall  be  thy  fate; 
I  only  know  it  shall  be  high, 
I  only  know  it  shall  be  great." 

To  any  one  familiar  with  the  ode,  or  to  any  one  reading  it  for 
the  first  time,  it  will  appear  how  naturally  it  rises  above  the  occa- 
sion which  called  it  out  and  fits  itself  to  the  "mightier  issues"  of 
the  present.  It  will  also  become  evident  just  what  Hovey  meant 
by  the  faith  which  can  give  to  the  nation  the  sure  access  to  its 
"unmanifest  destiny."  And  we  have  only  to  turn  to  our  own 
history  to  see  just  how  it  works.  The  two  great  events  which  we 
commemorate  to-night  show  us  that  this  faith,  reduced  to  prac- 
tical terms,  meant  both  to  the  founder  and  to  the  refounder  of 
the  College  nothing  more  and  nothing  less  than  the  power  to 
adjust  their  minds  to  the  greater  issues  that  were  to  determine 
the  fate  of  the  College.  That  is  what  it  must  always  mean  —  the 
power  to  adjust  the  mind  to  the  greater  issue  as  it  arises. 


440  MY  GENERATION 

We  accord  the  founding  of  Dartmouth  to  the  faith  of  Eleazar 
Wheelock.  What  was  the  supreme  exercise  of  his  faith?  Dart- 
mouth College  as  we  know  it  was  not  in  the  first  intention  of 
Wheelock.  His  first  purpose  and  his  long  cherished  project  was 
his  Indian  School.  That  was  "manifest  destiny."  For  that  he 
sent  Samson  Occom  to  England;  for  that  he  took  his  own  way 
into  the  northern  wilderness.  He  was  then  sixty  years  old,  and 
apparently  about  to  realize  his  lifelong  desire,  when  the  scheme 
became  impracticable  because  of  its  insufficiency.  It  was  then 
that  the  faith  of  Wheelock  really  asserted  itself  in  the  power  to 
readjust  his  mind  to  the  new  and  greater  issue  which  had  been 
hidden  in  the  "unmanifest  destiny"  of  his  great  conception. 
And  it  was  then,  because  of  his  undaunted  and  discerning  faith, 
that  as  the  mirage  of  his  Indian  School  faded  away,  there  rose  in 
its  place  the  substantial  walls  of  Dartmouth  College. 

The  refounding  of  the  College  is  still  more  a  proof  of  my  defini- 
tion of  the  historic  faith  we  are  enjoined  to  keep.  Why  is  not 
Dartmouth  College  to-day  a  State  University?  Simply  because 
Mr.  Webster  could  not  adjust  his  mind  to  that  conception  of  its 
destiny.  You  may  say  that  he  could  not  shrink  his  mind  to  that 
conclusion,  or  you  may  say  that  such  was  the  audacity  of  his 
faith  he  would  not  harbor  the  thought.  But  the  fact  remains  that 
it  was  Mr.  Webster's  obedience  to  the  dictate  of  his  higher  na- 
ture, though  acting  contrary  to  the  general  advice  of  men  from 
other  colleges  in  New  England,  and  under  protest  from  some 
who  feared  to  put  the  charters  of  their  own  colleges  to  a  final 
test,  that  he  determined  to  cast  the  fortune  of  his  college  into 
the  lap  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  take  the  result.  We  know  the 
result.  We  know  that  by  this  mighty  venture  of  his  faith,  he  gave 
to  all  colleges  the  lasting  security  of  their  chartered  rights,  and 
to  us  he  gave  back  in  place  of  an  already  established  state  insti- 
tution a  nationalized  college,  the  significance  of  which  return 
becomes  more  and  more  apparent  as  each  annual  catalogue  adds 
to  the  enrollment  of  the  sons  of  New  Hampshire,  the  enrollment 
in  increasing  numbers  of  the  sons  of  every  other  state  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific. 

We  can  hardly  fail  to  remind  ourselves,  as  the  keepers  of  this 


'  THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    441 

historic  faith,  that  the  time  may  come,  may  even  be  at  hand, 
which  will  test  our  power  to  adjust  our  minds  to  great  educa- 
tional issues  that  may  vitally  affect  the  College.  I  say  no  more 
at  this  point  because  of  my  firm  confidence  that  whenever  these 
issues  present  themselves  they  will  be  met  with  that  breadth  of 
view,  and  elevation  of  purpose,  and  resolute  initiative  which 
have  already  become  characteristic  of  the  present  administration 
of  the  College. 

But  what  of  our  attitude  to  the  nation,  the  object  of  our  imme- 
diate and  urgent  concern?  Can  we  do  better  than  try  to  apply 
this  injunction  that  we  keep  the  faith  in  the  sense  in  which  I  have 
tried  to  interpret  it  —  as  the  power  to  adjust  our  minds  to  great 
issues  as  they  arise?  How  constant  and  imperative  has  been  the 
demand  for  the  use  of  this  power  in  our  recent  history.  To  recur 
to  Richard  Hovey's  figure  —  with  what  rapidity  have  we  been 
forced  out  of  the  region  of  our  "manifest"  into  that  of  our  "un- 
manifest  destiny." 

For  a  century  we  lived  in  the  security  and  pride  of  our  isola- 
tion. That  was  our  providential  assignment  among  the  nations. 
That  was  our  "manifest  destiny."  It  took  but  so  slight  a  cause 
as  the  Spanish  War  to  disabuse  our  minds  of  that  fallacy  and 
adjust  us  to  our  place  in  the  world. 

Then  came  our  experience  of  neutrality.  That,  we  tried  to 
persuade  ourselves  as  we  shrank  from  the  horrors  of  war,  was 
our  "manifest  destiny."  Upon  the  high  authority  of  our  Presi- 
dent we  were  assured  for  a  time  that  this  was  to  be  our  distinc- 
tion. "We  are,"  he  said,  "a  mediating  nation  —  the  mediating 
nation  of  the  world."  This  was  a  fit  conception  as  applied  to  our 
internal  life,  that  of  mediating  among  the  races  and  peoples  of 
which  we  are  "compounded,"  but  as  a  theory  of  our  relation  to 
the  warring  nations  it  soon  became  unsatisfying,  then  dishearten- 
ing, and  then  a  burden  intolerable  to  bear,  an  experience  too 
bitter  to  endure.  The  day  when  we  disowned  our  neutrality  was 
a  day  of  national  emancipation.  And  to-day  the  joy  with  which 
we  welcome  our  returning  sons  is  in  part  the  expression  of  our 
gratitude  for  our  deliverance  at  their  hands  from  our  abject 
condition,  into  the  community  of  the  suffering  but  exalted 
nations. 


442  MY  GENERATION 

And  now  we  are  entering  upon  another  stage  in  the  disclosure 
of  our  "unmanifest  destiny."  What  part  shall  the  Nation  take  in 
the  use  of  its  sovereignty?  Certainly  this  is  a  great  issue,  in  the 
minds  of  many  a  very  grave  issue.  But  it  is  here,  and  how  shall 
we  meet  it?  I  can  only  answer  for  myself.  I  cannot  allow  myself 
to  believe  that  we  shall  put  such  a  construction  upon  the  doc- 
trine of  sovereignty  as  will  block  the  way  in  the  further  advance 
toward  the  realization  of  our  "unmanifest  destiny."  I  believe 
rather  that  "we  the  people"  will  allow,  and  if  need  be,  charge  the 
Nation,  in  the  full  exercise  of  its  sovereignty,  to  keep  company 
with  the  great  sovereignties  of  the  world  in  the  positive  and 
determined  effort  to  maintain  the  rule  of  justice,  order,  and 
peace.  If  a  fellowship  with  this  intent  is  to  exist  and  we  are  not 
in  and  of  it,  where  are  we?  If  it  shall  not  exist  because  we  took 
no  sufficient  part  in  creating  it,  what  answer  shall  we  make  to 
history  for  the  relapse  of  the  nations  by  consequence  into  the 
state  of  elemental  warfare?  l 

Such  is  my  response,  too  long  and  yet  too  brief,  to  the  injunc- 
tion that  we  keep  the  faith  —  the  faith,  that  is,  of  the  open,  the 
courageous,  the  undistorted,  the  unconfused  mind  in  the  pres- 
ence of  great  issues  as  they  arise.  This  is  the  power  as  I  appre- 
hend, perhaps  the  greatest  gift  of  our  inheritance  as  it  is  the 
greatest  discipline  of  our  citizenship,  through  which  we  as  the 
sons  of  Dartmouth  and  as  loyal  citizens  of  the  State  are  to  strive 
to  fulfill  the  "unmanifest  destiny"  whether  of  the  College  or  of 
the  Nation. 

I  am,  in  the  fellowship  of  our  faith 

Most  sincerely  and  heartily 

William  Jewett  Tucker 

I  have  recalled  these  expressions  of  opinion  to  mark  the 
impression  which  the  moral  issues  involved  in  the  course  of 
events  made  upon  my  own  mind.  Such  studies  as  I  was  able 
to  make  in  the  endeavor  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  the 
new  social  order,  or  the  meaning  of  the  War,  were  for  the 

1  The  portion  of  this  letter  referring  to  the  national  policy  was  taken  note 
of  quite  generally  in  the  daily  and  weekly  press. 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    443 

most  part  embodied  in  articles  contributed  to  the  "Atlan- 
tic Monthly."  I  was  much  indebted  to  the  generous  hos- 
pitality of  the  "Atlantic"  in  this  period  of  its  renaissance 
under  the  editorship  of  Mr.  Ellery  Sedgwick.  It  gave  me 
ready  access  to  its  wide  constituency  —  a  constituency 
made  up  largely  of  those  whom  I  wished  to  reach.  When  I 
came  to  gather  up  these  articles  into  a  book  to  be  issued  by 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  I  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  for  a 
fit  title.  There  was  no  unity  of  subject-matter.  All  that  I 
could  say  of  the  subject-matter  was  that  the  order  in  which 
the  articles  appeared  showed  "the  increasing  seriousness 
of  the  subjects  which  occupied  the  public  mind."  On  the 
whole,  it  seemed  best  to  adopt  the  title  of  the  first  article  in 
the  "Atlantic"  series  as  at  least  introducing  a  fresh  idea  — 
"The  New  Reservation  of  Time"  —  following  with  the 
sub-title  —  "  And  other  Articles  contributed  to  the  Atlan- 
tic Monthly  during  the  Personal  Occupancy  of  the  Period 
described."  The  "Baltimore  Sun,"  referring  to  the  title, 
said:  "This  is  an  example  of  a  good  book  hidden  under  the 
bushel  of  a  bad  title.  No  one  would  know  without  reading 
a  part  of  the  book  what  the  'new  reservation  of  time' 
meant,  and  the  term  would  not  arouse  the  most  curious 
book-buyer."  Not  so  however  the  "  Nation  "  and  the  "  New 
Republic,"  both  of  which  journals  caught  at  once  the 
underlying  idea  and  proceeded  to  comment  on  it  —  the 
"Nation"  making  the  title  a  text  for  discussing  "Our  Ex- 
Presidents  of  Universities,"  and  the  "New  Republic"  for 
discoursing  on  "Thinking  at  Seventy-Six." 

The  "Nation"  (January  11,  1917),  after  touching  with 
neat  irony  upon  the  need  of  a  new  "leisure  class,"  which 
could  not  fhV  well  into  the  present  "leisure  class  which 
plays  polo  and  exhibits  for  the  photographers  of  the 


444  MY  GENERATION 

Sunday  supplement,"  offers  our  ex-presidents  of  universi- 
ties as  among  the  candidates  well  worth  considering  for  the 
place,  though  distinctions  must  be  made  among  them  as 
they  "differ  among  themselves  in  goodness,  greatness,  and 
glory,"  and  then  proceeds  to  a  review  of  the  motive  and 
of  the  contents  of  the  book: 

Dr.  Tucker's  book  set  out  to  be  an  essay  towards  the  solution 
of  the  problem:  How  to  endure  being  a  retired  president.  When 
he  relinquished  active  charge  of  Dartmouth,  he  fell  to  considering 
whether  the  effect  of  society's  creation  by  retirement  of  a  quite 
elderly  leisure  class  would  intensify  or  remove  "  the  reproach  of 
old  age."  He  answered  the  question  in  the  new  and  inspiring 
spirit  of  resistance  to  superannuation,  which  makes  so  many 
men  above  seventy  the  admired  companions  of  men  in  the  twen- 
ties. He  swiftly  concluded  that  so  far  as  his  own  case  was  con- 
cerned, membership  in  the  leisure  class  was  not  a  discharge  from 
responsibility  for  time,  but  an  admission  to  larger  and  freer 
opportunities  to  use  it.  His  retirement  permitted  him  at  last  to 
consider  a  college  presidency  as  an  avocation,  and  to  follow  what 
is  perhaps  the  highest  calling  of  a  man  of  leisure  —  to  think  and 
write  disinterestedly  for  the  Republic  and  the  cause  of  mankind. 

Following  an  appreciation  of  the  contents  of  the  book, 
the  writer  reverts  to  this  idea  of  a  leisure  class  made  up  as 
suggested,  and  generalizes  upon  it  in  this  wise: 

Dr.  Tucker  is  not  the  only  retired  university  president  who 
has  in  recent  years  been  thinking  and  writing  disinterestedly  for 
the  Republic  and  the  cause  of  mankind;  but  he  is  perhaps  the 
first  to  recognize  his  work  as  the  fruit  of  a  new  and  possibly  im- 
portant elderly  leisure  class.  The  precious  aspects  of  membership 
in  this  class  are  various.  Its  members  need  not  speak  nor  write 
except  when  moved  by  an  inner  call :  they  may  therefore  be  ex- 
pected to  purge  their  utterances  of  the  humdrum  official  plati- 
tudes of  the  bad  days  of  their  presidencies.  They  are  scholars  as 
well  as  administrators:  they  may  therefore  be  expected  to  rise 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    445 

above  the  violence  of  an  uncritical  partisanship.  They  are  too  old 
or  too  weary  or  too  proud  to  enter  into  competition  for  such 
political  honors  as  might  be  considered  an  augmentation  of  their 
sober  academic  glories;  they  may  therefore  be  expected  to  speak 
weightily  and  to  be  heard  gravely,  as  sage  and  unselfish  coun- 
sellors of  the  national  conscience.  The  class  which  we  have  been 
describing  is  really  of  quite  distinguished  morality  and  intelli- 
gence — it  would  be  a  hard  class  for  a  vulgar  parvenu  to  enter; 
but  it  is  a  small  class,  and  it  ought  to  be  enlarged  by  the  acces- 
sion of  a  few  more  men  who  have  supped  fairly  full  of  honors — 
say  the  ex-Presidents  of  the  United  States. 

The  "New  Republic"  (August  25,  1917)  recognized 
equally  the  underlying  idea  of  "the  new  reservation  of 
time,"  but  found  the  real  significance  in  the  fact  that  as 
applied  to  ex-presidents  of  colleges  it  gave  them  intellec- 
tual freedom  after  their  long  imprisonment  in  institution- 
alism.  Making  the  application  of  this  theory  concrete,  the 
reviewer  says  that  "the  impression  a  young  man  will  get 
from  this  book  is  that  to  be  institutionally  responsible  is  to 
be  intellectually  suppressed  and  benumbed.  Dr.  Tucker  does 
not  say  this,  but  he  gives  the  effect  of  a  mind  that  has  been 
a  long  time  in  prison,  the  implications  of  his  philosophy  are 
so  radical  and  yet  his  thoughts  move  so  stiffly  in  their  har- 
ness"; in  proof  of  which  he  compares  the  views  expressed 
on  educational  subjects  with  those  on  current  social  topics. 
"Here  is  a  mind  that  has  a  driving  radical  force  about  it  in 
any  direction  where  it  works  openly  and  freely.  .  .  .  The 
marvel  is  to  find  in  this  thinker  of  seventy-six  the  dynamic 
philosophy  which  is  only  just  beginning  to  be  felt  by  young 
men  of  twenty-four."  In  proof  of  which  latter  statement, 
the  reviewer  comments  in  terms  of  highest  approval  of  the 
views  advanced  in  the  chapters  on  social  progress  and  on 
the  War,  and  then  passes  to  this  generalization : 


446  MY  GENERATION 

What  do  we  do  in  this  country  with  minds  like  this,  pregnant, 
radical,  profound?  Is  it  not  a  criminal  waste  of  intellectuality  to 
deny  freedom  to  such  minds  except  at  the  price  of  superannu- 
ation? Dr.  Tucker  has  all  the  invaluable  resources  of  the  publicist. 
He  is  the  stuff  out  of  which  England  makes  its  Morleys  and  its 
Bryces.  His  style,  though  weighty,  is  distinctive,  and  could  easily 
have  been  made  as  porous  as  Professor  Dewey's.  But  our  civiliza- 
tion could  apparently  find  no  other  way  of  using  such  a  mind 
than  to  put  it  for  the  best  years  of  its  life  into  the  routine  of  a 
New  England  college,  where  the  horrifying  prestige  of  the  higher 
education  kept  it  in  a  state  of  torpor.  Somehow  at  Dartmouth 
Dr.  Tucker  did  not  get  himself  tapped  as  a  public  philosopher. 
It  is  not  until  he  is  retired  that  he  shows  us  in  these  essays  what 
he  might  have  been  doing  all  these  years  as  a  publicist  free 
lance.  If  President  Tucker  could  not  have  had  an  earlier  re- 
lease, we  are  at  least  grateful  for  him  now.  May  the  years  spare 
him  an  ever  newer  reservation  of  time ! 

This  criticism  forms  a  part  of  a  unique  literary  episode. 
It  is  signed  with  the  initials  R.  B.  (Randolph  Bourne), 
whose  recent  untimely  death  is  so  great  a  loss  to  the  litera- 
ture of  sincere  and  searching  personal  opinion.  In  1912  Mr. 
Bourne,  while  still  a  student  at  Columbia,  appeared  on  the 
pages  of  the  "Atlantic"  in  a  brilliant  essay  on  "Youth/' 
full  of  freedom  and  fire.  Mr.  Sedgwick  asked  me  if  I  would 
write  a  response  to  it  —  not  in  any  way  a  reply  —  giving 
the  antithesis  of  age.  As  I  had  already  embodied  much  of 
my  thought  of  age  in  my  article  on  "The  New  Reservation 
of  Time,"  I  felt  that  any  further  word  from  me  on  the  sub- 
ject would  be  superfluous,  and  declined.  I  noticed  that  the 
antithesis  soon  appeared  in  the  delightful  article  by  John 
Burroughs  on  "The  Summit  of  the  Years."  Some  three 
years  later,  Mr.  Bourne  wrote  an  article  ("Atlantic,"  Sep- 
tember, 1915)  on  "This  Older  Generation,"  foreshadowed 
in  degree  by  his  article  on  "Youth,"  in  which  he  charges 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    447 

that  this  generation  of  the  elders  has  grown  obstructive 
through  its  compromises  and  conventions,  that  it  had 
failed  to  supply  guides  and  leaders,  and  above  all  that  it 
had  grown  "weary  of  thinking."  To  this  indictment,  Dr. 
Francis  G.  Peabody  replied  with  admirable  temper  and 
good-humor,  showing  the  futility  of  discussing  too  seriously 
the  provinces  of  adjacent  generations,  but  bringing  out  in 
sharp  relief  some  of  the  characteristics  of  "This  Younger 
Generation"  ("Atlantic,'*  December,  1915).  At  the  close 
of  this  article  Dr.  Peabody,  in  answering  the  despairing 
question  of  Mr.  Bourne —  "Where  are  the  leaders  of  the 
elder  generation  who  are  rallying  about  them  the  disinte- 
grated members  of  idealistic  youth?"  —  made  reference  to 
the  fact  that  "  Mr.  Roosevelt  was  now  several  times  a  grand- 
father," and  added,  "or  if  still  further  any  reader  of  the 
'Atlantic'  would  observe  how  completely  without  age 
limit  is  the  capacity  to  read  the  signs  of  the  present  times, 
let  him  turn  back  from  Mr.  Bourne's  essay  to  the  first  ar- 
ticle in  the  same  number  ('The  Progress  of  the  Social  Con- 
science') and  read  the  wise  and  far-sighted  anticipations 
of  an  invalided  veteran  of  letters,  with  their  background  of 
sound  learning  and  their  calm  prophecy  of  a  '  revival  of  civ- 
ilization.' "  I  do  not  know  that  this  paragraph  caught  the 
eye  of  Mr.  Bourne,  or  if  so,  suggested  to  him  the  opportu- 
nity of  making  his  amende  honorable  to  the  generation, 
which  he  had  accused  of  "  having  grown  weary  of  thinking," 
through  his  very  generous  appreciation,  in  his  review  of 
"The  New  Reservation  of  Time,"  of  one  of  their  number 
as  a  "thinker  of  seventy-six  whose  dynamic  philosophy  is 
just  beginning  to  be  felt  by  young  men  of  twenty-four." 
In  the  light  of  this  possible  "amende"  it  seems  almost  un- 
generous to  call  attention  to  the  inconsistency  of  accounting 


448  MY  GENERATION 

for  this  storage  of  power  during  a  long  period  of  imprison- 
ment in  academic  institutionalism,  or  to  revert  to  another 
figure  employed  by  the  reviewer,  to  show  how  the  "prison 
chill"  could  produce  a  "second  blooming."  However,  Mr. 
Robert  A.  Woods,  Head  of  the  South  End  House,  Roston, 
whose  knowledge  of  previous  facts  was  both  intimate  and 
critical,  writing  in  the  columns  of  the  Social  Settler  ("Ros- 
ton Evening  Transcript, "  August  30, 1917),  deftly  relieved 
Mr.  Rourne  of  the  necessity  of  explaining  the  inconsist- 
ency by  exploding  the  myth  of  "institutionalism."  And 
so  this  interesting  episode  was  happily  concluded. 

In  defining  at  the  outset  the  nature  of  this  Autobio- 
graphical Interpretation,  I  remarked  that  its  value  would 
depend  upon  the  relation  of  my  personal  career  to  the  for- 
tune of  my  generation.  If  the  movements  with  which  I 
was  identified  were  born  out  of  the  spirit  of  the  generation, 
and  if  in  my  connection  with  these  movements  I  also  was 
imbued  with  its  spirit,  then  I  might  hope  to  write  as  an 
interpreter  rather  than  as  a  mere  observer.  The  amount 
of  ground  covered  by  any  or  all  personal  activities  would 
be  relatively  of  less  importance  than  a  just  appreciation 
of  the  spirit  which  alone  could  give  them  meaning  and 
effect.  Rut  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  work  of  my  gener- 
ation has  now  passed  into  the  secondary  stage  of  interpre- 
tation. It  is  no  longer  to  be  studied  and  interpreted  pri- 
marily with  a  view  to  service.  The  generation  has  said  its 
word  and  accomplished  or  failed  to  accomplish  its  task. 
The  War,  while  it  lasted,  was  so  inclusive  and  so  insistent 
in  its  demands  that  it  reached  back  among  the  men  of  my 
time  to  take  account  of  their  accumulated  experiences  as 
well  as  of  their  material  possessions.  What  is  now  needed 
is  not  some  past  experience  of  the  world,  but  a  new  spirit, 


IN  RETIREMENT 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    449 

a  new  mind  to  be  created  out  of  its  own  aspirations, 
enthusiasms,  responsibilities,  hopes,  fears,  determinations, 
even  out  of  the  very  chaos  with  which  the  War  has  seemed 
to  plunge  the  mind  of  the  nations. 

Let  me  draw  the  contrast.  The  ruling  idea,  the  domi- 
nating purpose,  the  passionate  aim  of  my  generation  from 
first  to  last  was  progress.  That  one  word  explains  its  ener- 
gies physical  and  moral,  and  its  achievements,  its  mis- 
takes also  and  its  failures.  The  ruling  idea,  the  dominat- 
ing purpose,  the  passionate  aim  of  the  incoming  generation 
must  of  necessity  be  peace  —  not  peace  as  rest  from  the 
weariness  of  war,  or  even  as  recuperation  from  its  awful 
losses;  nor  yet  a  peace  satisfied  with  the  dethronement  of 
militarism  or  with  the  punishment  and  restraint  of  un- 
humbled  and  unrepentant  peoples,  but  with  peace  as  the 
commanding  problem  before  the  mind  and  conscience  of 
all  peoples,  a  problem  having  its  only  possible  solution  in 
the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  the  moral  equilib- 
rium of  the  world,  the  only  balance  of  power  which  can  be 
registered  on  the  scales  of  justice.  Evidently  this  object 
must  be  as  far-reaching  in  time  as  in  extent.  Peace  must 
be  the  world's  business,  its  great  business,  for  at  least  a 
generation.  Any  computation  of  the  elements  of  a  lasting, 
or  really  durable  peace,  must  include  vastly  more  of  civil- 
ization, an  adequate  advance  in  the  sense  of  justice,  and 
the  deepening  of  the  process  of  humanizing  the  world. 
Any  international  court  of  justice  must  be  supported  and 
made  practicable  by  continuous  international  legislation. 
Law,  that  is,  must  be  superseded  by  better  law  and  applied 
by  better  methods.  So  much  our  wiser  men  are  beginning 
to  foresee  and  to  declare.  But  is  this  all?  What  shall 
prevent  the  spirit  of  war,  once  exorcised  from  the  nations, 


450 


MY  GENERATION 


from  returning  through  the  open  door  of  class  conscious- 
ness, enmity,  and  strife?  Must  the  war  of  the  nations  be 
followed  by  the  more  terrible  war  of  the  classes?  Who 
shall  insure  peace  in  the  workshop  and  the  market-place? 
How  shall  democracy  be  restated  and  reenacted  in  terms 
of  economic  justice?  Surely  the  problems  of  peace  can  be 
no  less  absorbing,  no  less  perplexing,  than  were  the  incite- 
ments and  demands  of  progress. 

Is  there  any  word  which  the  nineteenth  century,  as  the 
century  of  progress,  may  utter  in  the  ear  of  the  twentieth 
century,  as  the  century  committed  to  the  task  of  peace? 
There  is  one  word  which  I  believe  it  may  utter  without 
impertinence  —  patience.  Soon  or  late,  patience  is  seen 
to  be  the  indispensable  quality  in  the  adjustment  of  hu- 
man effort  to  the  time  element  in  the  work  of  God  in 
human  affairs.  "Forget  not  this  one  thing,"  said  the 
Apostle  Peter  to  the  men  of  his  generation,  "one  day  with 
the  Lord  is  as  a  thousand  years  and  a  thousand  years  as 
one  day."  How  singularly  applicable  to  the  slow  years 
of  the  War  and  to  its  swift  conclusion!  What  if  the  War 
had  ended  before  the  Russian  autocracy  had  fallen  out  of 
alliance  with  the  liberty-loving  peoples  of  the  Entente; 
what  if  the  War  had  ended  while  Turkey  might  have  been 
saved  by  skillful  diplomacy  from  permanent  banishment 
from  Europe ;  what  if  the  War  had  ended  before  America 
had  quickened  her  step  to  reach  the  battle-field  at  the 
critical  hour?  These  are  pertinent  questions  to  ask  our- 
selves as  we  turn  from  the  issues  of  the  War  to  the  prob- 
lems of  peace.  The  problems  of  peace  are  already  in  evi- 
dence. They  are  growing  more  complicated  and  more 
serious.  We  cannot  evade  them,  and  we  may  not  mini- 
mize them.  Neither  may  we  make  light  of  the  dissensions 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME    451 

that  have  arisen  or  that  may  arise  out  of  them.  "Never- 
theless," shall  we  not  say  in  like  patient  faith  with  that 
of  the  Apostle,  as  in  his  time  he  faced  the  obstacles  to  the 
incoming  of  the  New  Order  of  the  World,  "Nevertheless, 
according  to  His  promise  we  look  for  a  new  earth  wherein 
dwelleth  righteousness." 


THE  END 


INDEX 


Abbot,  Samuel,  103. 

Abbott,  Dr.  Lyman,  his  conception  of 
the  divinity  of  Christ,  131,  132;  at 
Plymouth  Church  celebration,  370. 

Academies  before  the  Civil  War,  30, 31. 

Adams,  Professor  C.  D.,  317. 

Adams,  Melvin  O.,  321. 

Adams,  Dr.  William,  73-75. 

Agnosticism,  6,  94. 

Alabama,  the.  See  Kearsarge. 

Alderman,  Dr.,  19. 

Allen,  Archdeacon,  54. 

Allen,  Ethan,  375. 

Allen,  Justice,  207,  208. 

"Alumni  Movement,"  the,  at  Dart- 
mouth, 234-36. 

Alumni  Oval,  the,  321. 

American  Board  of  Missions,  144,  145, 
152-58. 

American  Home  Missionary  Society, 
the,  63. 

Americanization,  ■work  in,  436-38. 

Amos  Tuck  School  of  Administration 
and  Finance,  321,  354-58. 

Andover  Controversy,  the,  out  of  place, 
101 ;  due  in  large  measure  to  personal 
influence,  101,  102;  the  Board  of 
Trustees  and  the  Board  of  Visitors 
at  the  time  of,  104,  105;  election  of 
Dr.Smyth,  105, 106  .letter  from  mem- 
ber of  staff  of  "  Congregationalist " 
opposing  Dr.  Smyth's  appointment, 
107;  effort  of  the  "Congregational- 
ist" to  establish  the  theory  of  con- 
structive heresy,  108-10;  letter  of  the 
Faculty,  110,  111;  conversation  of 
Tucker  with  Smyth,  111,  112;  letters 
concerning  Smyth,  112-14;  Smyth 
rejected  by  the  Visitors,  114-16; 
effect  of  the  decision  on  the  public 
mind,  117-20;  the  Faculty  of  the 
Academy  during,  124;  distinction 
between  "Andover  Disturbance" 
and  "Andover  Controversy,"  125; 
the  early  period  a  period  of  restraint, 
126. 

Andover  Creed,  the,  121,  122,  185- 
221;  Professor  Smyth's  defense  of, 
200,  216.  See  Andover  Trial. 


Andover  House  (South  End  House), 
131,  181-83,  231,  367,  426. 

Andover  Movement,  the,  128;  ex- 
pounded in  the  pulpit,  129;  its  rela- 
tion to  Unitarianism,  131-35;  and 
the  churches,  151. 

"Andover  Review,"  institution  of,  136; 
contributors  to,  137,  138;  members 
of  the  Andover  Review  Company, 
Inc.,  138;  indebtedness  to  publishers 
of,  138,  139;  press  notices  of,  139  n.\ 
importance  of  editorials  of,  139-46; 
the  purpose  of,  140-42;  personal  re- 
lations of  the  editors  of,  146;  the 
editors,  146-50;  courses  offered 
through,  174-77. 

Andover  Theological  Seminary,  a  the- 
ological school  with  a  missionary 
spirit,  55;  Professors  in,  55-57;  in- 
tellectual and  moral  passion  lacking 
in,  58;  Tucker  accepts  call  to,  86-89; 
its  attempt  to  Christianize  the  doc- 
trine of  human  destiny,  99;  the  con- 
stitution of,  102-04;  new  chair  in, 
offered  to  Newman  Smyth,  118,  119; 
Dr.  Harris  appointed  to  chair  in, 
120,  121;  resignation  of  Professors 
Thayer  and  Mead  from,  121,  122; 
creed  subscription,  121-23;  the  Fac- 
ulty of,  during  the  Controversy, 
124;  two  new  chairs  established  in, 
124;  status  of,  at  the  close  of  the  pre- 
liminary stage  in  the  controversy, 
124,  125;  the  Faculty  a  preaching 
Faculty,  129;  spirit  of  work  within, 
during  the  controversy,  159,  184, 
185;  controversy  without  effect  on 
students,  160;  exceptional  interest  of 
the  work  of,  160;  the  Lectureship  on 
Pastoral  Theology,  161;  the  chair  of 
Preaching  in,  162;  preaching  by 
students  at,  163,  164;  lectures  on 
the  technique  of  teaching  at,  163-65; 
scheme  of  lectures  given  at,  170-72; 
Social  Economics  in,  172-74;  ex- 
tension courses  in,  174-77;  Tucker 
resigns  from,  240;  period  of  institu- 
tional development  of,  delayed,  244, 
245;  decline  in  numbers,  245;  re- 


454 


INDEX 


moval  to  Cambridge,  245-47;  cre- 
ation of  separate  Board  for,  246. 

"Andover  Townsman,"  editorial  in, 
on  Professor  Tucker's  removal  to 
Dartmouth,  239  n. 

Andover  Trial,  the,  the  charges,  185- 
90;  the  reply  of  the  Professors  to  the 
charges,  191-93;  Professor  Smyth's 
answer  to  the  request  to  meet  the 
charges  in  writing,  193;  the  Amended 
Complaint,  194,  195;  the  issue,  195- 
97;  the  counsel,  197;  the  scene  of, 
198;  the  interest  excited  by,  198; 
absence  of  students  and  Trustees 
from,  198;  the  arguments,  198-202; 
result  of,  203,  204 ;  appeal  to  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts  made  by 
Professor  Smyth,  205;  bill  of  com- 
plaint made  by  the  Trustees,  205-07; 
verdict  of  Visitors  set  aside  by  Su- 
preme Court,  208;  changes  in  the 
Board  of  Visitors,  209,  210;  com- 
plaint against  Professor  Smyth  re- 
newed, 211;  case  dismissed,  212,  213, 
233,  234;  summary  of  the  case,  213; 
result  a  personal  triumph  for  Pro- 
fessor Smyth,  214,  215;  folly  of  over- 
use of  theological  safeguards  shown 
by,  216,  217;  theological  freedom 
assured  by,  217,  218;  contributed 
toward  the  freedom  of  Christianity, 
219-21. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  81. 

Asakawa,  Professor,  346,  347. 

Associated  Charities,  172. 

Athletics,  college,  39,  332-35;  at  Dart- 
mouth, 335,  336. 

Avocation,  value  of,  392. 

Baldwin,  Professor  Simeon  E.,  197, 199. 

Balfour,  Arthur,  quoted  on  the  change 
in  the  point  of  view  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  3. 

Bancroft*,  Cecil  F.  P.,  55,  104,  301. 

Barker,  Justice,  208. 

Bartlett,  Ichabod,  288. 

Bartlett,  Samuel  C,  66  n.,  310;  Presi- 
dent of  Dartmouth,  65;  resignation, 
222;  sympathies  and  activities  of, 
351. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  73,  332,  370. 

Bell,  Mrs.,  396. 

Bellows,  Dr.  Henry  W.,  73. 

Berkeley  Street  Church,  Boston,  154- 
56. 

Berkeley  Temple,  169. 

Berry,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  A.,  370. 


Bevan,  Dr.  Llewelyn  D.,  73. 

Bible,  historical  criticism  of,  6,  94-96; 

experiment  in  the  constructive  studv 

of,  67-69. 
Biology  as  a  study,  337. 
Bishop,  Robert  R.,  104. 
Bishop,  Judge,  207,  238,  239. 
Blair,  Ex-Senator,  25. 
Boards  of  control  of  colleges,  261. 
Boards  of  trust  and  colleges,  265. 
Bolshevism,  17. 
Boston  and  New  York,  the  religious 

atmosphere  of,  in  1875,  compared, 

72. 
Boston  Latin  School,  31. 
Bourne,  Randolph,  446-48. 
Bovhood  in  a  New  England  village, 

26-30. 
Bradford,  Dr.,  370. 
Brayton,  Miss,  401. 
Brooke,   Stopford   A.,   his   "Life  and 

Letters  of  Frederick  W.  Robertson," 

58. 
Brown,  Charlotte  Rogers,  415  n. 
Brown,  Eleanor,  415  n. 
Brown,    Rev.    Francis,    President    of 

Dartmouth,  287,  292-95. 
Brown,  Professor  Francis,  grandson  of 

the  Rev.  Francis,  236,  237,  399. 
Brown,  John  Crosby,  74. 
Brown,  Judge  Nelson  Pierce,  415  n. 
Brown,  Mrs.  N.  P.  (Margaret  Tucker), 

230,  415. 
Brown,  Nelson  Pierce,  Jr.,  415  n. 
Brown,  Professor  Samuel  G.,  236,  237, 

366. 
Brown,  Stanton,  415  n. 
Burroughs,  John,  446. 
Bushnell,  Horace,  on  work  and  play, 

394. 
Butterfield,  Dr.  Ralph,  fund  given  to 

Dartmouth  by,  304. 

Cable,  the  Atlantic,  78,  79. 

Cabot,  Dr.  Richard  C,  letter  of,  366, 

367. 
Capital  and  labor,  changes  in,  after  the 

Civil  War,  14,  15. 
Carnegie,  Andrew,  178-80. 
Carnegie  Pension  Fund,  265,  266. 
Carter,  President  Franklin,  105. 
Cass,  Mr.,  27. 
Caverno,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  C,  incident 

regarding  "Origin  of  Species"  told 

by,  3. 
Chalmers,  Rev.  Thomas,  385. 
Chapel,  College,  345. 


INDEX 


455 


Charity,  172,  173. 

Chase,  Charles  P.,  311. 

Chase,  his  "History  of  Dartmouth" 
quoted,  275,  376. 

Cheever,  Charlotte,  wife  of  Professor 
Tucker,  230. 

Cheever,  Dr.  Henry  T.,  230. 

Cheever,  Miss,  396. 

Chenev,  Governor,  86. 

Chi  Alpha,  New  York  club,  81-83. 

Chicago,  University  of,  endowment, 
263. 

"Chicago  Times,"  the,  suspension  of, 
unwise,  45. 

Choate,  Rufus,  294,  396. 

Christ,  the  new  orthodox  and  the  Uni- 
tarian views  of,  131-35. 

Christian  faith,  220,  221. 

Christianity,  freedom  of,  219. 

Church,  the,  17;  and  charity,  172; 
and  social  economy,  173. 

Churches,  New  York,  84-86. 

Churchill,  Professor  John  Wesley,  124; 
personal  sketch  of,  149,  150. 

Citizenship,  Tucker's  views  on,  391. 

Civil  War,  the,  8,  9,  11;  moral  relapse 
following,  12,  13;  commemorative 
tablet  at  Dartmouth  to  students  and 
graduates  who  fell  in,  41;  not  un- 
foreseen, 42;  nation  unready  for,  43; 
popular  impatience  at  beginning  of, 
43;  disappointment  in  commanding 
generals  in  early  part  of,  43,  44; 
political  situation  in,  44,  45;  the  issue 
of  personal  rights  versus  national 
safety,  45,  46;  premature  movement 
for  peace,  46-48;  carried  on  with  a 
heavy  heart  in  the  North,  51;  satis- 
faction at  successful  completion  of, 
52;  characteristics  of  the  era  which 
followed,  52,  53. 

Civilization,  on  the  control  of  modern, 
431,  432. 

Clarke,  Henry  Steele,  65. 

Clarke,  James  Freeman,  138. 

Classical  college,  the  accomplishment 
of  the,  37,  38. 

Coit,  Charlie,  22. 

Collective  bargaining,  15. 

College  Hall,  Dartmouth,  332. 

College  presidency,  362-64,  392,  403; 
emeritus,  420. 

Colleges,  before  the  Civil  War,  30;  uni- 
formity among,  31;  curriculum  of, 
32,  33;  competition  in  scholarship 
fostered  by  curriculum  of,  33;  pre- 
dominance of  personal  element   in 


teaching  in,  33;  numerical  equality 
in,  34;  educational  aristocracy  among 
graduates  of,  34;  the  freedom  of,  36; 
routine  and  the  elective  system,  36, 
37;  the  classical  training  of,  37,  38; 
the  earlier  and  the  modern,  distinc- 
tion between,  38;  significance  of  the 
present  tendencies  in,  39  n.\  "college 
life,"  39;  comradeship  in,  39,  40; 
corporate  consciousness  of,  249-71; 
the  institutional  character  of,  249, 
250;  have  spiritual  value,  250;  mean- 
ing of  the  phrase  "corporate  con- 
sciousness" as  applied  to,  250,  251; 
from  address  of  Woodrow  Wilson  on, 
252;  criticism  of  educational  spirit 
of,  253,  257-66;  humanizing  and  in- 
dividualizing in,  253-55;  corporate 
spirit  a  stimulus  to  scholarship  in, 
255-57;  governing  bodies,  260-62; 
faculty  responsibility,  261,  262;  non- 
sectarianism  of,  262,  263;  endow- 
ments of,  263,  264;  danger  of  cap- 
italization of,  264;  tendency  to  trans- 
form governing  boards  of,  into  finan- 
cial boards,  264,  265;  educational 
boards  of  trust  in,  265,  266;  tempta- 
tion to  insufficient  or  inferior  use  of, 
266,  267;  relation  of,  to  the  past,  267; 
prominence  of  teaching  force  in,  in 
nineteenth  century,  297;  administra- 
tion prominent  in  the  modern,  297, 
298;  the  modernizing  process  in,  297- 
300;  historic,  the  proper  financial 
policy  of,  302,  303;  change  in  occu- 
pations of  graduates  of,  353,  354; 
humanizing  function  of  liberal  edu- 
cation of,  359,  360;  relation  between 
professional  and  executive  conception 
of  administration  of,  404,  405. 

Collins,  Charles,  76. 

Columbia  University,  endowment  of, 
264. 

Comradeship,  college,  39,  40. 

Concord  Reformatory,  169. 

Congregational  churches,  examination 
of  candidates  for  pastorates  of,  151. 

Congregationalism  and  Presbyterian- 
ism,  72. 

"Congregationalist,"  the,  107-10,  210. 

Conscription,  425. 

Constantinople,  393. 

Cook,  Joseph,  55,  126. 

Cooperation  as  a  factor  in  evolution,  93. 

Corporate  consciousness,  249-71; 
meaning  of  the  phrase  as  applied  to 
colleges,  250,  251. 


456 


INDEX 


Corporations,  15. 

Corruption  following  the  Civil  War, 
12. 

Covel,  W.  J.,  157. 

Craig,  O.  H.  P.  (Captain  Craig),  26. 

Creed  subscription,  121-23. 

Crosby,  Dr.  Howard,  73. 

Crosby,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Josiah,  66  n. 

Cummings,  Uncle  and  Aunt  Noah,  26. 

Curriculum,  of  colleges  before  the  Civil 
War,  31-33;  the  modern  and  the  old- 
time,  38;  significance  of  the  present 
changes  in,  39  n. 

Cushwa,  Charlotte  Cheever,  415  n. 

Cushwa,  Professor  Frank  William, 
415  n. 

Cushwa,  Mrs.  F.  W.  (Elizabeth  Wash- 
burn Tucker),  230,  415  n. 

Cushwa,  William  Tucker,  415  n. 

Dale,  Dr.,  81. 

Dartmouth,  Lord,  274,  276. 

Dartmouth,  Lord,  the  present,  276-78, 
289  n. 

Dartmouth  College,  Indian  School  pre- 
cursor of,  23,  272;  its  history  to  be 
capitalized,  269;  college  sentiment 
to  be  fostered,  269,  270;  question  of 
facilities,  270,  271 ;  the  traditions  of, 
271-96;  a  religious  venture  into  an 
untried  field  of  education,  272;  re- 
founding  of,  272,  273;  the  romance 
of,  275,  276;  foundation  of,  275,  276; 
and  the  present  Lord  Dartmouth, 
276-78;  Tucker  elected  to  Presidency 
of,  222;  considerations  for  and  against 
acceptance  of  Presidency,  222-25, 
237;  letter  of  declination,  225-28; 
the  "Alumni  Movement,"  234-36; 
Tucker  decides  to  accept  Presidency 
of,  238;  the  proper  institutional  de- 
velopment of,  268,  269;  the  Wheelock 
Succession,  280-83;  occasion  of  re- 
founding  of,  283-85;  charges  and 
counter-charges,  285,  286;  President 
deposed,  287;  act  of  Legislature  rela- 
tive to,  287;  suit  and  adverse  de- 
cision, 287,  288;  character  of  its 
graduates,  296,  297;  the  modernizing 
process  at,  300;  management  of,  300, 
301;  contraction  of,  301,  302;  finan- 
cial policy  of,  302,  303;  funds  of,  303- 
08;  independent  heating  and  lighting 
system  of,  306;  the  plant  of,  307-09 
the  physical  expansion  of,  309-12 
architectural  development  of,  312 
superintendence  of  construction  at, 


312,  313;  educational  expansion  of, 
313-15;  changes  in  professional 
habits  at,  315,  316;  committee  sys- 
tem introduced  into  the  Faculty, 
316;  cooperation  of  Faculty  in  re- 
construction of,  316,  317;  distribu- 
tion of,  317,  318;  benefactions  of 
Edward  Tuck  to,  319-21;  cooper- 
ation of  alumni,  321,  322;  normal 
capacity  of,  323;  immediate  effect  of 
modernizing  process  on  internal  life 
of,  323,  324;  cooperation  of  students 
used  in  reconstruction,  324-29;  the 
elective  system  in,  324,  336-39; 
"Dartmouth  night,"  325,  326; 
"horning"  and  college  sentiment, 
326-29;  introduction  of  the  bath, 
330;  prejudice  against  the  modern 
dormitory  at,  330, 331 ;  the  dormitory 
system  at,  331 ,  332;  athletics  at,  335, 
336;  and  the  University  idea,  349- 
53;  the  Thayer  School,  351,  358, 
359;  Amos  Tuck  School  of  Adminis- 
tration and  Finance,  354-58;  lecture- 
ships established  by  Henry  L.  Moore, 
361,  362;  and  the  State  of  New 
Hampshire,  373-77;  Tucker's  letter 
of  resignation  from  Presidency  of, 
397,  398;  during  the  time  of  contin- 
ued service  of  President  Tucker,  402; 
need  of  academic  productivity  in, 
403;  scholarships  and  fellowships  at, 
403;  incident  touching  relation  of 
professional  and  executive  concep- 
tion of  administration  of,  404,  405; 
question  of  pension  system  at,  405, 
406;  Sabbatical  year  at,  406;  elec- 
tion of  Dr.  Nichols  to  Presidency  of, 
408;  speech  of  President  Tucker  at 
Alumni  Dinner  of,  409-13. 

Dartmouth  Hall,  312,  353. 

"Dartmouth  Night,"  325,  326. 

Darwin,  Charles,  publication  of  his 
"Origin  of  Species,"  2;  publication 
of  his  "The  Descent  of  Man,"  3; 
casual  manner  of  introduction  of  the 
"Origin  of  Species,"  3;  influence  of 
the  "Origin  of  Species,"  3. 

Degrees,  academic,  363. 

Democracy,  15, 17,  426;  conventions  of, 
329. 

Denison,  John  H.,  55. 

Department  store,  the,  15. 

Dexter,  Henry  M.,  65;  letter  of,  to  the 
"Transcript,"  19.5, 196;  argument  of, 
at  the  Andover  Trial,  199;  death,  209, 
210. 


INDEX 


457 


Dexter,  Miss,  401. 

Dickens,  Charles,  81. 

Dickinson,  Dr.  Charles  A.,  155,  169. 

Dike,  Samuel  W.,  54. 

Discipline,  1. 

Disraeli,  Benjamin,  5. 

"Divinity  of  Christ,  The,"  143. 

Dix,  Dr.  Morgan,  73. 

Dixon,  Caroline  Moorhouse,  415. 

Dixon,   Professor  Frank  Haigh,   317, 

415  n. 
Dixon,    Mrs.    F.    H.    (Alice    Lester 

Tucker),  230,  415  n. 
Dixon,  Roger  Coit,  415  n. 
Dixon,  William  Tucker,  415  n. 
Dodge,  William  E.,  74. 
Dodge,  William  E.,  Jr.,  72,  74. 
Dogmas,  219. 
Dormitories  at*  Dartmouth,  308,  330- 

32. 
Dow,  Professor  L.  H.,  317. 
Dunning,  Dr.,  210. 
Duryea,  Dr.,  72,  116. 
Dwight,  Judge  Theodore  W.,  197,  199. 

Eastman,  Professor  John  Robie,  301. 

Economic  crusades,  originate  in  the 
West,  13. 

Economic  progress,  423. 

Education,  effect  of  scientific  revolu- 
tion of  nineteenth  century  on,  6,  7; 
liberal,  humanizing  function  of,  359, 
360. 

Elective  system,  the,  36,  37,  324,  336- 
39. 

Eliot,  Charles,  309. 

Emeritus,  the  term,  420. 

Emerson,  Professor,  315. 

Emery,  Professor  F.  B.,  317. 

Endowments  of  colleges  and  univer- 
sities, 263,  264. 

England,  study  of  German  language  in, 
438. 

English  language,  study  of,  437,  438. 

Equality  and  liberty,  423. 

Eustis,  Rev.  Dr.  William  T.,  his  part 
in  the  Andover  Trial,  105,  186,  193, 
203-10. 

Evil  and  good,  93. 

Evolution,  cooperation  as  a  factor  in, 
93. 

Faculty  responsibility,  261,  262. 
Fairfield,  Arthur  P.,  313. 
Farrar,  Canon,  81. 
Fayerweather,  Daniel  B.,  305. 
Fayerweather  Fund,  the,  305. 


Fenn,  William  H.,  66. 

Field,  Chief  Justice,  208. 

Field,  Cyrus  W.,  78,  79. 

Fiske,  Daniel  T.,  104. 

Fitchburg,  Mass.,  sermon  delivered  by 

Tucker  at,  126-28. 
Foster,  Professor  H.  D.,  268,  317. 
France,  study  of  German  language  in, 

438. 
Franklin  Street  Church,  Manchester, 

N.H.,  Tucker's  pastorate  of,  64-71; 

Semi-Centennial,   66  n.,  68;    social 

expansion  of,  69,  70;  the  building, 

70. 
Fraternities,  college,  332. 
French,  Judge  Asa,  197,  199. 

Gaston,  Ex-Governor,  197. 

Generation,  Tucker's,  character  of,  1; 
fortune  of,  1-18;  purpose  of,  2,  449; 
moral  heritage  of,  7;  the  incoming, 
449-51. 

German  language,  the  study  of,  434-38. 

Germany,  the  mind  of,  434. 

Gilman,  Gov.  John  Taylor,  376. 

Gladden,  Washington,  99,  370. 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  178,  179. 

Glezen,  Mr.,  167. 

God,  change  in  conception  of,  92. 

Good  and  evil,  93. 

Gordon,  Dr.,  370;  on  the  modern  or- 
thodox view  of  Christ,  131,  133. 

Gospel  of  Wealth,  178-80. 

Graduate  school,  a  contribution  of  the 
scientific  method,  7. 

Grant,  U.  S.,  a  man  of  peace,  51. 

Gray,  Professor,  207. 

Greeley,  Horace,  his  letter  in  the  "  New 
York  Tribune,"  8;  urgent  for  im- 
mediate peace,  46. 

Greene,  Dr.,  156. 

Gregory,  James  C,  183. 

Greynook,  Nantucket,  401,  402. 

Grimm,  Professor  H.,  233. 

Griswold,  Conn.,  birthplace  of  Tucker, 
20. 

Grouard,  Dr.,  401. 

Gulliver,  John  P.,  124. 

Hall,  Dr.  John,  73. 

Hanover,  N.H.,  416. 

Hanover  Street  Church,  Manchester, 

N.H.,  65. 
Hardy,  Alpheus,  104,  153. 
Hardy,  Alpheus  H.,  104. 
Hardv,   Professor   Arthur   Sherburne, 

330,  415. 


458 


INDEX 


Harris,  Dr.,  United  States  Commis- 
sioner of  Education,  30,  296. 

Harris,  Professor  George,  appointed  to 
chair  at  Andover,  120,  121;  personal 
sketch  of,  147;  cooperates  in  prepa- 
ration of  hymn  book,  166,  167;  form 
in  which  he  accepted  the  Andover 
Creed,  202;  testimony  of,  at  the 
Andover  Trial,  202. 

Harvard  University,  endowment  of, 
263;  Tucker  as  preacher  at,  367,  368. 

Havnes,  Tilly,  198. 

High  schools,  public,  in  1860,  30,  31. 

Hilton,  II.  H.,  322,  372. 

Hincks,  Dr.  Edward  Y.,  124;  personal 
sketch  of,  148,  149. 

Historical  criticism  of  the  Bible,  94-96. 

History  as  a  study,  337. 

Hitchcock,  Mrs.  Hiram,  311. 

Hitchcock,  Roswell  D.,  74,  76,  80,  81. 

Hoar,  Judge  Rockwood,  196,  197,  199, 
216. 

Hoar,  Senator,  quoted  on  the  Harvard 
curriculum,  31. 

Holmes,  Justice,  208. 

Home,  education  of,  in  a  New  England 
village,  28-30;  the  Puritan,  30. 

Homiletics,  scheme  of  lectures  in,  170. 

Hopkins,  President  of  Dartmouth,  321, 
363,  402;  quoted  on  founding  of  lec- 
tureships at  Dartmouth,  360-62;  his 
presidency,  421. 

Hopkins,  Ernest  M.,  319. 

Hopkins,  President  Mark,  153. 

Hopkinson,  Judge,  289. 

"Horning,"  326-29. 

Hough,  Charles  M.,  letter  to  Tucker, 
430. 

Houghton,  Mr.  (Houghton,  Mifflin  & 
Co.),  138. 

Howells,  Mr.,  396. 

Hunter,  E.  H.,  313. 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  368,  369. 

Hyde,  William  De  Witt,  318;  letter  to 
Tucker  on  Newman  Smyth,  112  n.; 
and  the  Maine  Band,  183. 

"Hymns  of  the  Faith,"  167,  168. 

Individualism,  14,  16,  17,  97,  98. 
Industrialism,  14,  15,  437;  the  theory 

of,  394. 
Initiative,  intellectual,  1. 
Institutionalism  in  colleges,  260-66. 
Intellectualism  in  colleges,  259. 

James,  D.  Willis,  74. 

Jewett,  Rev.  William  R.,  22;  Tucker 


taken  into  the  household  of,  24;  his 

character,  29;  death,  229. 
Jewett,  Mrs.,  death,  229. 
Jewett  City,  21. 
Johns  Hopkins,  inaugurated  epoch  of 

graduate  instruction,  7;  endowment 

of,  263. 
Johnston,  Governor,  380. 
Johnston,  John  Taylor,  74. 
Jowett,  Dr.,  340,  345. 

Kearsarge,  U.S.S.,  and  U.S.S.  Alabama, 
presentation  to,  of  Memorial  Tab- 
lets by  the  State,  378-84. 

Kellogg,  Professor  Vernon,  quoted,  93. 

Keyes,  Professor,  313. 

Kimball,  Benjamin  A.,  301. 

King's  Chapel,  Boston,  134. 

Kingsford,  Dr.,  309. 

Knowlton,  Justice,  208. 

Labor  and  capital,  changes  in,  after  the 
Civil  War,  14,  15. 

Lacondaire,  quoted,  135. 

Lake,  Dr.  Kirsopp,  250,  251,  257. 

Land  and  Water  Power  Company, 
Manchester,  N.H.,  64. 

Lane,  George  W.,  74,  75,  86. 

Lanphear,  Dr.,  211. 

Lathrop,  Justice,  208. 

Law  School  at  Dartmouth,  351,  352. 

"Laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of  the 
New  Dartmouth  Hall,"  289  n. 

League  of  Nations,  Tucker's  attitude 
toward,  438-42. 

Learned,  Bela,  22. 

Leathes,  Stanley,  quoted,  16. 

Leavens,  Kirk,  22. 

Lecky,  W.  E.  H.,  quoted,  273,  274. 

Lecture  platform,  the,  9,  10. 

Lectureship  on  Pastoral  Theology  at 
Andover,  161,  169-72. 

Legge,  Edward,  277. 

Legge,  William  Heneage,  277. 

Legge,  William  Walter,  277. 

Leisure  class,  443,  444. 

Leland  Stanford  University,  263. 

Liberty  and  equality,  423. 

Libraries,  college,  32. 

Lincoln,  President,  his  reply  to  Horace 
Greeley's  letter,  8;  as  an  orator,  10; 
the  return  to,  in  the  present  war,  10, 
11;  his  second  inaugural  quoted,  11; 
his  analysis  of  democratic  govern- 
ment, 15,  16;  his  decisive  statement 
of  the  terms  of  peace,  46;  feeling  to- 
ward, 47;  sees  little  prospect  of  his 


INDEX 


459 


reelection,  47;  his  view  of  the  Civil 

War,  51. 
Lord,  Professor  John  K.,  318,  350,  402. 
Lowell,  President,  341. 
Lowell  Institute  lectures,  232,  364-66. 
Lyceums,  10. 
Lyman,  Arthur  T.,  133,  134. 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  364. 

Madison  Square,  N.Y.,  75. 

Madison  Square  Church,  the,  Tucker 
called  to,  71;  organization  and 
growth  of,  74,  75;  consolidated  with 
other  churches,  85,  86. 

Maine  Band,  the,  183,  184. 

Manchester,  N.H.,  character  of,  64,  65; 
the  churches  of,  65,  66;  the  pastorate 
of  Tucker  at,  66-71. 

Manchester  Locomotive  Works,  the, 
65. 

Manning,  Cardinal,  179. 

Mansfield  College,  England,  245. 

Marsh,  George  P.,  294. 

Marsh,  Joseph,  375. 

Marsh,  President  of  the  University  of 
Vermont,  138. 

Marshall,  Jonathan,  105,  203,  209. 

Mason,  Jeremiah,  25,  286,  288. 

McKenzie,  Rev.  Dr.  Alexander,  104. 

McKenzie,  A.  A.,  313. 

Mead,  Professor,  121,  122. 

Medical  school  at  Dartmouth,  352. 

Merrill,  James  G.,  54. 

Merriman,  Dr.  William  E.,  155. 

Merwin,  Sam,  22. 

Militarism,  427. 

Miller,  Judge,  45. 

Ministry,  the,  colleges  as  training  school 
for,  81;  the  personal  element  in,  54; 
wider  interpretation  of  the  call  to, 
54,  55;  the  question  of  the  pastoral 
and  the  educational  branches  of 
service  in,  87. 

Missions,  "cut  the  nerve  of  missions," 
109,  144,  153;  city,  130;  motive  for, 
144,  220;  the  American  Board  of 
Missions,  144,  153-58. 

"  Modernism,"  attitude  of  the  churches 
toward,  90. 

Moore,  Professor  George  Foot,  124, 
137,  148. 

Moore,  Henry  L.,  lectureships  estab- 
lished by,  361,  362. 

Morley,  John,  quoted  on  the  tenden- 
cies of  modern  education,  37. 

Morley,  John  H.,  55. 

Morton,  Justice,  208. 


Munger,  Theodore  T.,  99. 
Music  in  church  services,  166-69. 

Nantucket,  400,  401. 

"Nation,"  the,  on  Dr.  Tucker's  book, 
"The  New  Reservation  of  Time," 
443,  444. 

Nationality,  spirit  of,  and  the  slavery 
issue,  8-12. 

"New  departure,"  125. 

New  England  Breeders'  Club,  384-88. 

New  Hampshire  and  Dartmouth,  con- 
nection of,  373-77. 

New  Hampshire  College  of  Agriculture 
and  the  Mechanic  Arts,  351. 

"New  Puritanism,  The,"  370. 

"New  Republic,"  on  Dr.  Tucker's 
book,  "The  New  Reservation  of 
Time,"  445,  446. 

"New  Reservation  of  Time,  The,"  the 
title,  443-48. 

New  York  and  Boston,  the  religious 
atmosphere  of ,  in  1875,  compared,  72. 

New  York  pastorate,  limitations  in, 
82-86. 

Nichols,  President  Ernest  Fox,  in- 
auguration of,  280,  282;  Professor  in 
Physics,  317;  and  "Dartmouth 
Night,"  326;  accepts  presidency  of 
Dartmouth,  408;  reception  to,  409; 
support  given  to,  420;  resignation, 
421. 

Niles,  Edward  C,  386. 

Noble,  Dr.,  158  n. 

Northern  Academy,  the,  350. 

Norwich,  Conn.,  early  home  of  Tucker, 
20,  21;  description  of,  22,  23. 

Noyes,  William  H.,  the  ease  of,  154-58. 

Occom,  Samson,  23,  274,  275. 
Olcott,  Colonel,  375. 
Ordronaux,  Dr.  John,  331. 
Ormiston,  Dr.  William,  73. 

Pacific  Theological  Seminary,  Tucker 
lectures  at,  369. 

Palaeopitus,  Dartmouth  society,  329. 

Palmer,  Professor  George  H.,  55,  135, 
368. 

Park,  Professor  Edwards  A.,  Professor 
of  Christian  Theology,  55;  theology 
as  treated  by,  55,  56;  resignation  of, 
105;  witticism  of,  166;  death,  209, 
210. 

Parker,  Dr.,  81. 

Parker,  Chief  Justice  Joel,  310,  351. 

Parkhurst,  Dr.,  84. 


460 


INDEX 


Pastoral  Theology,  lectures  on,  161, 
169-72. 

Patience,  450,  451. 

Patten,  Professor  William,  93, 317, 338. 

Payne,  Judge,  375. 

Peabody,  Professor  Francis  G.,  quoted, 
347-49;  at  Dartmouth,  368;  his  reply 
to  an  article  of  Mr.  Bourne,  447. 

Peace,  premature  movement  for,  in  the 
Civil  War,  46;  moral  and  selfish,  430, 
431 ;  the  aim  of  the  incoming  gener- 
ation, 449;  the  problems  of,  450,  451. 

Peaslee,  Dr.  Edmund  R.,  86. 

Pension  funds,  266. 

Pension  system  in  colleges,  405,  406. 

Personal  rights  versus  national  safety, 
45,  46. 

Phelps,  Professor  Austin,  56,  57. 

Phi  Beta  Kappa  Oration,  232,  233. 

Phillips,  John,  103. 

Phillips,  Phoebe,  103. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  10. 

Phillips  Academy,  102. 

Pilgrim  Church,  St.  Louis,  71. 

Pillsbury,  Att.-Gen.  A.  E.,  378. 

Play  and  work,  394,  395. 

Plymouth,  N.H.,  Tucker  removed  to, 
24,  25;  character  of,  25;  life  at,  26- 
30. 

Plymouth  Church  celebration,  870. 

Political  effects  of  the  change  in  the 
social  order,  15,  16. 

Politics,  tone  of,  after  the  Civil  War, 
12,  13;  Tucker's  views  on,  389-91. 

Pollens,  Professor,  317. 

Pope,  the,  his  proposal  for  intervention, 
432  433. 

Porter,  Judge  John  K,  76,  77. 

Potter,  Dr.,  73. 

Pratt,  Mrs.,  396. 

Preaching,  the  chair  of,  at  Andover, 
162;  Tucker's  lectures  on,  delivered 
at  Yale,  162,  163;  by  students,  163, 
1 64 ;  lectures  on  the  technique  of ,  1 63- 
65;  has  to  do  with  the  personality  of 
the  teacher,  164;  methods  of,  165; 
scheme  of  lectures  on,  170-72. 

Prentiss,  George  L.,  74. 

Presbyterianism  and  Congregational- 
ism, 72. 

Presidency,  college,  362-64,  392,  403; 
emeritus,  420. 

Pritchett,  Dr.,  266. 

Professional  schools,  349-53. 

Professions,  work  and  play  in,  394,  395. 

Professors  in  colleges  before  the  Civil 
War,  33. 


Progress,  passion  for,  in  Tucker's  gen- 
eration, 2,  449. 

Progressive  movement  in  theology,  at- 
titude of  churches  toward,  90;  cov- 
ered three  fields,  91;  in  the  field  of 
theological  inquiry,  92-94;  in  the 
field  of  historical  criticism,  94-96; 
its  humanistic  impulse,  96-99. 

"Progressive  Orthodoxy,"  91,  142. 

Progressives,  the,  422. 

Prohibition  crusade,  the,  13;  attitude 
of  society  toward,  425. 

Provincialism  in  colleges,  257-59. 

Public-mindedness,  391. 

Public  speaking,  414. 

Prudential  Committee  of  American 
Board  of  Missions,  152-58. 

Puritanism,  revival  of,  in  anti-slavery 
conflict,  7-12;  after  the  Civil  War, 
12,  13. 

Putnam,  Professor,  35. 

Quint,  Rev.  Dr.  Alonzo  H.,  105,  209, 
301. 

Rainsford,  William  S.,  letter  to  Tucker, 

429,  430. 
Ranney,  W.  W.,  183. 
Raymond,  Rossiter  W.,  370. 
Religion,  of  Boston  and  New  York, 

compared,  72;  and  science,  so-called 

conflict   of,   94;   the   projection  of, 

into  the  conditions  of  modern  life, 

97;  academic,  262,  263. 
Religious    controversy    in    nineteenth 

century,  5,  6. 
Religious  cooperation,  conditions  not 

favorable  to,  after  the  Civil  War,  63. 
Religious  effect  of  the  social  revolution 

of  the  nineteenth  century,  16. 
Religious    movement    of    eighteenth 

century,  273,  274. 
Reparation,  the  question  of,  434. 
Republican  party,  the  formation   of, 

11. 
Rich,  Charles  A.,  312. 
Richardson,  Professor  Charles  F.,  347. 
Richardson,  Dr.  Cyrus,  301. 
Richardson,  Judge  James  B.,  301. 
Ripley,  George  and  Dick,  22. 
Robertson,  Frederick  W.,  58-62. 
Robinson,  ex-Governor,  207. 
Robinson,  Professor  William  C,  351. 
Rockwood,  Mrs.  George  I.,  396. 
Rogers,   Charlotte,  wife  of  Professor 

Tucker,  229. 
Rogers,  John,  229. 


INDEX 


461 


Rollins,  Governor,  380. 
Rollins  Chapel,  313,  402. 
Roosevelt,  Theodore,  422. 
Ropes,  Joseph  T.,  104. 
Rowe,  Sam,  26. 

Russell,  Charles  Theodore,  105. 
Russell,  Thomas  H.,  104. 
Russell,  Judge,  197,  199. 
Ryder,  Professor,  124. 

Sabbatical  year  at  Dartmouth,  406. 

Salem  race-track,  387,  388. 

Sanborn,  Professor,  35. 

San  Francisco,  370. 

Sayward,  Judge,  396. 

Schaff,  Philip,  74. 

Scholarship,  the  corporate  spirit  a 
stimulus  to,  255-57;  need  of  an  avo- 
cation in,  393. 

Schools,  addresses  of  Tucker  at,  372. 

Science  and  religion,  so-called  conflict 
of,  94. 

Scientific  renaissance  of  nineteenth 
century,  4-7. 

"Second' probation,"  108,  109,  125, 
126,  128,  131. 

Sectarianism  in  colleges,  262,  263. 

Sedgwick,  Ellery,  443,  446. 

Seelye,  President  Julius  H.,  105,  108, 
117,  203,  209. 

Self -education,  1. 

Sewall,  Professor,  168. 

Sewall,  Oliver  D.,  183. 

Shattuck,  George  O.,  207. 

Shedd,  William  G.  T.,  74,  138. 

Sills,  President,  363. 

Slavery  issue,  the,  7-12. 

Smith,  President,  351. 

Smith,  Edwin  R.,  183. 

Smith,  Prof.  Henry  B.,  74. 

Smith,  Jeremiah,  288. 

Smith,  Dr.  William  T.,  395. 

Smyth,  Professor  Egbert  C,  124;  arti- 
cle in  the  "Review"  by,  140,  141; 
specifications  on  which  he  was  con- 
demned, 143;  personal  sketch  of ,  146; 
reply  of,  to  letter  of  Dr.  Eustis,  193; 
his  argument,  at  trial,  199,  200;  con- 
demned by  Board  of  Visitors,  203; 
appeals  to  Supreme  Court  of  Massa- 
chusetts, 205;  reinstated,  208;  com- 
plaint against,  renewed,  211;  case 
against,  dismissed,  212,  213;  the  re- 
sult of  the  trial  a  personal  triumph 
for,  214,  215. 

Smyth,  Dr.  Newman,  55;  his  reputa- 
tion, 106;  controversy  over,  104-16; 


at  the  First  Church  of  New  Haven, 
116,  117;  refuses  new  chair  offered 
by  Trustees  of  Andover,  118,  119. 

Snow,  Francis  H.,  54. 

Social  Christianity,  16,  97. 

Social  conscience,  424,  425. 

Social  Economics  at  Andover,  172-77. 

Social  justice,  17. 

Social  order,  the  new,  14-17. 

Social  progress,  Tucker's  views  on, 
422-27. 

Social  settlements,  17,  426. 

Socialism,  the  danger  in,  16;  commu- 
nistic, 17. 

Sociological  studies,  connection  of 
Andover  with,  172-77,  181-84. 

South  End  House.  See  Andover  House. 

Spalding,  C.  W.,  303. 

Spalding,  Dr.,  66  n. 

Stanley,  Dean,  81. 

Starbuck,  Professor  C.  C,  137. 

State,  conception  of,  as  power,  427- 
29. 

Stearns,  Edward  R.,  183. 

Storrs,  Richard  S.,  73. 

St  owe,  Professor  Calvin  E.,  57. 

Stowe,  Harriet  B.,  57. 

Strain,  physical  and  mental,  394. 

Streeter,  Frank  S.,  301,  436. 

"Struggle  for  existence,"  92,  93. 

Sullivan,  Attorney-General,  288. 

Syndicate,  the,  15. 

Tappan  Wentworth  Fund,  the,  303. 

Taylor,  Edward,  104. 

Taylor,  Dr.  John  P.,  124,  137. 

Taylor,  Dr.  William  M.,  73. 

Teague,  Henry  N.,  313. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  254. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  81. 

Thayer,  General  Sylvanus,  358. 

Thayer,  Professor,  121-23. 

Thayer  School,  the,  351,  358,  359. 

Theological  freedom,  217,  218. 

Theology,  progressive  movement  in, 
90-99.  See  Progressive  movement. 

Tibbetts,  Mr.,  316. 

Tilden,  Samuel  J.,  79,  80. 

Torrey,  Daniel  T.,  154. 

Toynbee  Hall,  181. 

Travel,  value  of,  392,  393. 

Trust,  the,  15. 

Trustees,  Board  of.  See  Andover  The- 
ological Seminary,  Andover  Trial. 

Tuck,  Amos,  320. 

Tuck,  Edward,  benefactions  of,  319- 
21,  355-58. 


462 


INDEX 


Tucker,  Robert,  early  ancestor  of 
William  J.  Tucker,  20. 

Tucker,  William  ("Squire  Tucker"), 
grandfather  of  William  J.  Tucker, 
20;  his  house  at  Norwich,  21;  char- 
acter of,  21,  22. 

Tucker,  William  J.,  the  character  of 
his  generation,  1;  the  fortune  of  his 
generation,  1-18;  the  purpose  of  his 
generation,  2;  the  heritage  of  his  gen- 
eration, 7;  his  approach  to  his  gener- 
ation, 19;  his  ancestry  and  early 
home  at  Norwich,  20-24;  influence 
of  grandfather  and  mother  on,  24; 
taken  into  the  household  of  Rev. 
W.  R.  Jewett,  24;  journey  of,  to  Ply- 
mouth, N.H.,  24,  25;  boyhood  life 
of,  at  Plymouth,  27-30;  his  early 
schooling,  27;  his  early  reading,  28, 
29;  his  preparation  and  examina- 
tions for  college,  35;  moral  effect  of 
the  college  freedom  on,  36;  and  col- 
lege routine,  36,  37;  precluded  from 
taking  great  active  part  in  Civil  War, 
42;  effect  of  illness  upon,  42  n.; 
teaching  in  Columbus,  Ohio,  45;  his 
service  in  the  United  States  Chris- 
tian Commission,  48-50;  on  the 
march  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea,  50; 
changes  from  the  law  to  the  ministry, 
53,  54;  at  Andover  Seminary,  55-58; 
his  debt  to  Frederick  W.  Robertson, 
58-62;  in  service  of  American  Home 
Missionary  Society,  63;  in  the  Frank- 
lin Street  pastorate,  Manchester, 
N.H.,  64-71;  influence  of  the  pastor- 
ate on,  66,  67;  on  the  need  of  clear, 
terse,  and  truthful  speech  in  the 
ministry,  67;  experiment  of,  in  the 
constructive  study  of  the  Bible,  67- 
69;  in  the  Madison  Square  pastorate, 
71-89;  his  first  sermon  in  the  new 
pastorate,  75,  76;  finds  responsive 
congregation,  76,  77;  his  pastoral 
lectures,  77,  78;  personal  associa- 
tions with  men  of  public  value,  78- 
83. 

Goes  to  Andover  Theological  Sem- 
inary, 86-89;  report  of  meeting  ac- 
cepting resignation  from  pastorate, 
88  n.\  letter  of,  to  Mr.  Hardy  on 
Newman  Smyth,  112-14;  letter  of 
President  Hyde  to,  112  n.\  his  reason 
for  urging  acceptance  of  new  chair 
on  Smyth,  119;  Bartlet  Professor  of 
Sacred  Rhetoric,  124;  delivers  ser- 
mon at  Fitchburg,  Mass.,  126-28; 


his  Sunday  engagements,  129,  130; 
on  the  modern  orthodox  view  of 
Christ,  132;  his  conception  of  the 
person  of  Christ,  134,  135;  proposal 
as  candidate  for  presidency  of  Amer- 
ican Board  of  Missions,  158  n.;  his 
work  in  the  Lectureship  on  Pastoral 
Theology,  161,  169-72;  his  chair  of 
Preaching,  162;  his  lectures  on  "The 
Making  and  Unmaking  of  the 
Preacher,"  162,  163;  lectures  of,  on 
the  technique  of  preaching,  163-65; 
cooperates  in  preparation  of  hymn 
book,  166-69;  gives  courses  in  Social 
Economics,  173-76;  his  statement 
covering  his  subscription  of  the 
Andover  Creed,  200-02;  elected  to 
Presidency  of  Dartmouth,  222;  con- 
siderations for  and  against  his  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Presidency,  222-25, 
237;  letter  of,  to  Trustees  of  Dart- 
mouth, declining  call  to  Presidency, 
225-28;  domestic  affairs  of,  229-31; 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Oration  of,  232, 
233;  decides  to  accept  Presidency  of 
Dartmouth,  238;  letter  of  Judge 
Bishop  to,  238;  editorial  in  "An- 
dover Townsman"  on,  239  n.;  letters 
of  resignation  from  Andover  and 
acceptance  of  Presidency  to  Dart- 
mouth, 240-44;  his  views  as  to  loca- 
tion of  theological  schools,  246;  his 
object,  to  give  to  Dartmouth  its  pos- 
sible institutional  development,  268, 
269;  lines  on  which  he  proposed  to 
develop  Dartmouth,  269-71;  address 
of,  at  the  grave  of  Wheelock,  278-80; 
address  at  inauguration  of  Dr. 
Nichols,  280-82;  from  his  address  on 
the  Origin  of  the  Dartmouth  College 
Case,  283-85;  address  at  Webster 
Centennial,  290-92;  confined  himself 
to  administrative  duties  at  Dart- 
mouth, 318;  his  reason  for  approving 
of  athletics,  332-36;  tries  to  gain 
access  to  the  mind  of  the  College, 
339,  340;  chapel  talks  of,  340-49; 
tries  to  develop  sense  of  the  per- 
sonal, 341-43;  his  "Personal  Power," 
343, 419;  tries  to  develop  sense  of  the 
human,  343,  344;  his  "  Public-Mind- 
edness,"  344,  418;  tries  to  develop  re- 
ligious sense,  344,  345;  his  Lowell 
lectures,  364-66;  letter  of  Dr.  Cabot 
on  the  preaching  of,  366,  367;  serves 
as  preacher  at  Harvard  University, 
367,  368;  lectures  at  Yale,  368;  lee- 


INDEX 


463 


tures  of,  on  the  Morse  Foundation, 
368,  369;  takes  part  in  Plymouth 
Church  celebration,  370;  not  inter- 
ested in  the  technical  and  conven- 
tional, 371;  various  addresses  of, 
371,  372;  his  interest  in  State  of  New 
Hampshire,  377,  378;  speech  on 
presentation  of  battle-flags  to  Gov. 
Johnston  of  Alabama,  381-84;  on 
committee  connected  with  New 
England  Breeders'  Club  affair,  386; 
his  name  mentioned  in  connection 
with  the  governorship  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, 388;  his  position  in  regard 
to  politics,  389,  390;  on  politics  as 
a  profession,  390,  391;  on  public- 
mindedness  and  citizenship,  391;  on 
avocation  and  value  of  travel,  392, 
393;  on  play  and  work,  394,  395;  at 
York  Harbor,  396;  breakdown  in  his 
health,  396,  397;  his  letter  of  resigna- 
tion, 397,  398;  second  letter  of,  agree- 
ing to  partial  service,  399,  400;  at 
Nantucket,  400-02;  fund  bearing 
his  name,  402;  interest  in  academic 
productivity  of  Dartmouth,  403-05; 
interest  in  pension  system,  405,  406; 
services  of,  in  second  year  under 
temporary  withdrawal  of  resigna- 
tion, 406;  introductory  statement  of 
report  of,  406,  407;  communication 
of,  to  "The  Dartmouth"  on  Presi- 
dent Nichols,  408,  409;  speech  of, 
at  Alumni  Dinner,  409-13. 

Satisfactions  growing  out  of  his 
retirement,  414-16;  buys  house  on 
Occom  Ridge,  415;  his  daughters  and 
sister,  415  n.;  on  the  New  Reserva- 
tion of  Time,  417,  418;  edits  ad- 
dresses, 418,  419;  monograph  on 
"The  Function  of  the  Church  in  Mod- 
ern Society,"  419;  at  reunion  of  the 
"Boys  of  '61,"  419;  his  attitude  to- 
ward Mr.  Roosevelt  and  the  Progres- 
sives, 422 ;  his  views  and  articles  on  so- 
cial progress,  422-27;  his  views  on  the 
ethical  element  in  the  War,  427-29; 
his  article,  "The  Ethical  Challenge 
of  the  War,"  quoted,  428, 420;  letters 
of  Rainsford  and  Hough  to,  429,  430; 
his  article,  "  The  Crux  of  the  Peace 
Problem,"  430,  431;  his  article  "On 
the  Control  of  Modern  Civilization," 
431,  432;  on  the  Pope's  proposal  for 
intervention,  432,  433;  on  the  mind 
of  Germany,  434;  on  the  study  of 
the  German  language,  434-38;  his 


views  on  our  participation  in  world 
affairs,  438-42;  his  book,  "The  New 
Reservation  of  Time,"  443;  on  peace 
as  the  aim  of  the  incoming  gener- 
ation, 449-51. 

Union  Theological  Seminary,  strong- 
hold of  advanced  Presbyterianism  of 
New  York,  73,  74,  87;  its  attempt  to 
liberalize  the  doctrine  of  Scripture, 
99;  freed  from  visitatorial  control, 
119,  120;  lectures  by  Tucker  on  the 
Morse  Foundation  at,  368,  369. 

Unions,  labor,  15. 

Unitarian  Club,  addresses  at,  131-34. 

Unitarianism,  its  relation  to  the  An- 
dover  movement,  131-35. 

United  States  Christian  Commission, 
the,  48. 

United  States  Hotel,  24,  25,  198. 

United  States  Sanitary  Commission, 
the,  48. 

Universities.  See  Colleges. 

Upton,  Judge  Samuel,  letter  of,  68. 

Vallandigham,  C.  L.,  arrest  and  banish- 
ment of,  unwise,  45. 

Vermont  and  New  Hampshire,  struggle 
between,  373,  374. 

Visitorial  system,  the,  119,  216. 

Visitors,  Board  of.  See  Andover  The- 
ological Seminary,  Andover  Trial. 

Vose,  Rev.  Dr.  James  G.,  105. 

Waldron,  Dr.,  54. 

Walker,  Rev.  Dr.  George  Leon,  105, 209. 

Wallace,  Rev.  Cyrus  W.,  65. 

War,  the  spirit  of,  449,  450. 

War,  the,  the  moral  issue  in,  427-34. 

Ward,  Benjamin,  26. 

Ward,  Julius  H.,  365. 

Ward,  Dr.  William  Hayes,  111. 

Wealth,  the  Gospel  of,  178-80;  and 
institutionalism  in  colleges,  263. 

Webster,  Daniel,  8,  25;  counsel  in  Dart- 
mouth College  Case,  288,  289;  cen- 
tennial of  graduation  of,  289;  address 
of  President  Tucker  at  Centennial, 
290-92. 

Webster  Centennial,  the,  289. 

Webster  Hall,  322. 

Wellman,  Arthur  H.,  197,  199. 

Wellman,  Rev.  Dr.  J.  W.,  104,  211. 

Wells,  Professor  David  Collins,  230, 
317. 

Wells,  Mrs.  D.  C,  sister  of  President 
Tucker,  230,  415  n. 


464 


INDEX 


Wentworth,  Tappan,  303. 

Wheeler,  Mrs.  Leonard,  396. 

Wheelock,  Dr.  Eleazar,  268;  his  Indian 
School,  23,  272-76;  his  religious  life, 
274;  and  Whitefield,  274,  275. 

Wheelock,  John,  son  of  Dr.  Wheelock, 
appointed  President  of  Dartmouth, 
283,  284;  conflict  of,  with  Trustees, 
285,  286;  deposed,  287,  292,  293. 

"Wheelock  Succession,  The,"  280-83. 

White,  Sarah,  Tucker's  mother,  22. 

Whitefield,  George,  274,  275. 

Wickham,  Mavor,  77. 

Wilcox,  Rev.  Dr.  William  H.,  104. 

Wilder,  Charles  T.,  fund  given  by,  304. 

Will,  the,  Professor  Park's  division  of, 
56. 


Wilson,  Woodrow,  from  address  of,  on 
academic  communities,  252. 

Woodruff,  Professor  Frank  E.,  124. 

Woods,  Robert  A.,  181,  231,  367,  448. 

Woodward,  Judge,  287,  375. 

Work,  change  in  attitude  toward,  after 
the  Civil  War,  15;  and  play,  394, 
395. 

Worship,  public,  166-69,  171. 

Wright,  Prof.  George  Frederick,  5,  136. 

Yale  University,  endowment  of,  264; 

Tucker  lectures  at,  368. 
York  Harbor,  396. 
Young,  Professor  Ira,  35. 

Zerviah,  Aunt,  21. 


(Cbe  Ritierirt&e  pre?* 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


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1436 

1893 


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